We'll Meet Again
by Moondancing Millie
Summary: AU. London, 1942. War is raging in Britain, but Buffy Summers thinks she has everything figured out. But then the dashing William Boone makes his presence known, and everything Buffy once knew is blown apart. [SB]
1. Chapter One: Elizabeth Summers

**A/N This is my new fic, We'll Meet Again. Um, not brand-spanking new Buffy writer, but still a little tentative, so I'd appreciate if my reviews were flame-free. I used Microsoft Word so the writing should be correct, but forgive me if there are minor mistakes. I'm not a history expert, so the time period details may be slightly incorrect too.**

**And finally, I am British. My spelling will be different to you Americans, and also my tone of writing. Please bear that in mind.**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter One

**London, 1942.**

The night was closing in. The rusty sun, behind the wheat-coloured clouds was sinking lower and lower, and was getting harder to see over the wooden fence in Elizabeth's back garden. It was her favourite time of day.

She was lying on her front, on the slightly damp grass in her back garden. It was a small piece of lawn, for a dwelling with a garden any larger would have cost more than the Summers family could afford. Elizabeth knew that this particular past-time was not advised by her mother – Joyce liked her family to stay together at times like these – but it was so relaxing. It was almost enough to make her forget the nightmarish events occurring at this very instant.

Elizabeth took a rather worn piece of paper out of her petticoat pocket and read. It was an old letter now – nearly three years old – but the sentimental message it contained was ageless. Even now, when she had received more letters from the sender, this was her favourite.

_Dear Buffy,_

_It's me, your brother, Billy! I can't believe I'm actually here, in France! I feel so grand – 19 years old and fighting in a war. I know Mama wanted me to stay home, but it would be so dull to hear of the adventures overseas and not be part of them! Liam's here too, and he says hello. I miss you more than the warm of our house, but I have to stay. Somebody's got to win this war!_

_By the time I come home – and I will, mark my words – you could be a little lady! You could be nineteen years old, think of that! That's as old as I am now. You may even be promised away to a young man, and I won't have had my say. Pick them wisely, little Buffy. Nobody will ever be good enough for you, but you make sure you have the one who comes close._

_All my love forever and forever to my little sister,_

_Billy_

_xxxx_

_PS. I've told Mama to say hello to Dawn for me, so you won't have to face "the beast" you so passionately detest._

Elizabeth smiled as she ran a smooth finger over the inked words. Buffy was Billy's pet name for her, and she let nobody but him call her that, no matter how hard Daddy persisted.

Liam was Billy's best friend – they had joined up together. Dawn, or "The Beast" as Buffy tended to call her, was Billy's fiancée. Elizabeth was furious on first acquaintance that anyone besides herself could be close to Billy. It had always just been the two of them – Billy and Buffy. This Dawn couldn't possibly intrude. But, alas, she had, and Billy declared himself irrevocably in love. Billy's happiness was obvious, and Buffy had to surrender. Never had he smiled so much.

But then the dratted Germans had gone and done whatever they had done – Buffy had been a blissfully unaware thirteen-year-old back in 1939, and hadn't paid much attention to the wireless – and Britain had declared war, and suddenly the demand for young men had been overwhelming.

Daddy had been excused, after fighting in the first war; he was too old for another round of endless fighting. And besides, he was a miner, and Britain needed them. Instead, Billy had gone to sign up in his place, despite Joyce's disagreements. Buffy had watched as the soldiers had climbed aboard the trains, waving goodbye. There were tears from most families, but Buffy had stood strong. She had never been the girl for crying.

"It's a long way to Tipperary; it's a long way to go…" Buffy sang, in remembrance of that day. All the boys had been singing it. "It's a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know…"

"Elizabeth!" hissed Joyce, suddenly, and her cry had made Buffy jump. She leap to her feet, and brushed the stray pieces of grass away from her petticoat, hurriedly. "Elizabeth, what have I told you about staying out here at night-time?"

"It's barely dusk, Mama," protested Buffy with a pout, and Joyce looked furious.

"Hush, child, before I box your ears," scolded Joyce. "It's suppertime. Go and drink your cocoa."

Buffy ran into the house, stuffing the piece of paper back into her pocket hastily. She took her mug from the counter, not bothering to wash her hands first. Mama had not been watching, she didn't have to know. She settled down on the settee, and sipped, slowly. All of the streetlights outside were not turning on, despite the fact that the sky outside was slowly turning a deep violet. The blackout was essential for London's safety. It would be ridiculous to have lights on at a time like this – it would like inviting the Germans to drop bombs!

After emptying her mug, Buffy handed it to her mother, who in turn put in by the sink. Joyce pointed to her cheek, which Buffy obediently kissed. "Goodnight, Mama," she said, sadly.

"Goodnight, Elizabeth," replied Joyce, as she began filling the sink to do the washing-up. "Don't forget to wash your face before you put on your nightgown. Daddy will be in to say goodnight when he comes in from work."

"They are still very busy at the mines?" asked Buffy, in surprise. "But I thought the demand had subsided!"

"The demand will not subside until this war is over," said Joyce, sternly. "And you should not concern yourself with such matters, Elizabeth. Go to bed now."

"Yes, Mama."

Buffy traipsed up the stairs, gloomily, brushing her teeth, and washing her face as she had been instructed, before pulling her petticoat over her head – laying Billy's letter on her chest of drawers first, of course - and slipping into her white, lacy nightgown. She turned out the light in the bathroom before entering her bedroom. She looked out of her window to see the young boy from next door staring back at her. Buffy gave him a quick wave – this was all she ever did, she had not once said hello or even asked him his name – before drawing her curtains, and settling down to sleep.


	2. Chapter Two: William Boone

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Two

"Elizabeth! Come and help with dinner!"

It was Sunday. Elizabeth relished the final day of the week – the day that her father was home from work during the afternoons, and she and Mama cooked a gorgeous roast dinner – though it had been nicer when there no rationing of the food - for him to come home to. Daddy often came home looking rugged and dirty – and Mama would not let him anywhere near the kitchen until he had had a bath and put on clean clothes. It was up to Buffy to keep cooking whilst Joyce found her husband fresh clothes from the airing cupboard.

Buffy chopped the carrots neatly, and was peeling the potatoes when her father came through the door, as black as the coal he worked with, and his trousers thick with mud. Mama stopped him in the hallway, and ordered him straight into the bathroom. It was a dingy and dark room – Buffy's least favourite room of the whole house. It consisted of a fireplace, a metal tub, and a sink. The toilet was outside – and that was even worse. Buffy was deadly afraid of spiders, but the privy was full of them. If she could help it, Buffy never used it more than three times a day.

Joyce then returned, and told Buffy she could do as she pleased until the roast was served. It was a nice day – the sky was fairly blue and cloudless – so she chose to go outside in the garden.

"Don't forget to wash your hands when you come in!" called Joyce, from inside. "Don't think I didn't notice the grubby fingerprints on that mug yesterday!"

Buffy nodded solemnly, but skipped across the lawn to her normal spot nevertheless. Settling down on the worn spot of grass she liked so much – this time with a withered book – she crossed her legs demurely, and enjoyed the light wind playing with her golden curls.

The book was one that her mother had given her. It had been Mama's, and before then it had belonged to Buffy's grandmother – and Mama had made Buffy promise that she would hand it down to her daughter. Personally, Buffy disliked the tale. _Little Women, _it was called, and it told the story of four daughters. Buffy had decidedly taken to the character of Beth – she seemed the least pretentious – for Jo was too boisterous, Meg too affected, and Amy too vain – but had been devastated by her death later on in the book. She had tossed the book aside, and hadn't opened it again until she gave away her favourite book of all, _Adventures of the Wishing-Chair, _to her brother when he had left. Buffy began to whistle their childhood lullaby.

"Oi, you!"

This particular exclamation made Buffy jump. The voice wasn't familiar to her – it was neither her mother's nor her father's, as they spoke with a proper and gentle accent. This accent was harsh and rude. She didn't like it at all. She followed the sound with her head, and was surprised to see a head sticking up over her fence.

"Oh!" she cried, clutching her book to her chest, and standing up, immediately. "You gave me a fright!"

"Sorry." Buffy narrowed her eyes to see that the head was in fact that of the boy who lived next door. He wasn't gentlemanly at all. Her father would be disgusted to see a young man talk like he did. And if her mother had heard him, his ears would have most definitely been boxed by now.

"How old are you?" asked Buffy, curiously, meeting the boy at the other side of the fence, leaving her book untouched on the grass. "You look a lot older than me. You're certainly taller!"

"I'm eighteen," declared the boy, proudly. "But I bet a squirt like you's only twelve."

Buffy blushed. "I'm sixteen!" she replied, indignantly. "I'm just petite. It's better to be small and ladylike than be a giant brute like you!"

The boy did not look offended at all. Instead, he stood his ground. "Ain't your brother tall? Haven't seen him in a while, but I know he's at least six foot."

"Billy is fighting in the war," Buffy said, sticking out her chest with pride. "He's all muscled, though. He's not a weed, like you." Buffy stopped, thoughtfully. "If you're eighteen, why aren't you in the war? Billy was two months too young, but he still joined up."

"Well, good for Billy," answered the boy, rudely. "But I'm asthmatic. The army-types don't want me. I'm too much bother."

Buffy bit her lip, and blushed again. She hadn't anticipated that he was poorly. Imagine what a fraud she would feel if she had given him the white feather and called him a coward! She would have been ever so embarrassed, and her mother would have never forgiven her for such unladylike behaviour.

"I put you in your place, didn't I?" retorted the boy, with a grin. "It's alright. The asthma ain't that bad. Just gets bad in the winter." He coughed. "An', of course, I get the hay fever."

Buffy frowned, concernedly. "Are you O.K?" she asked. "Do you need a glass of water?"

"Nah, I'm fine," said the boy.

"What did you want, then?" implored Buffy. "Why did you call me?"

The boy put his hands in his pockets. "Well," he said. "I see you every night, and was curious. You go to bed dead early. My mum lets me stay up till nine-thirty."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Nine-thirty?" she repeated. "I would never be able to get up the next morning! Eight-thirty is perfect for me, thank-you."

"I'm just a rebel." The boy grinned. "Say, what's your name? You gave your brother's name – and I know your dad's name, he used to work with my old man. But who are you?"

"I'm Elizabeth," replied Buffy, giving her full name. It was only Billy who could use the abbreviation. There was no chance she would let this wretched boy use it. She didn't think she could stand hearing it with that strange accent!

"I'm William," said the boy, sticking out his right hand. Buffy didn't shake it. Instead, she exclaimed, rather surprised.

"That's my brother's name!" she cried. "But you don't look anything like a William. My Billy's got curly brown hair, and it goes right around his face. Its ever so nice – not like that dreadful colour you employ."

William raised his hands to his bleached blonde hair defensively, and sniffed the air hungrily. "That smells nice," he said. "I wish we still ate roasts at home. We don't have much money now my dad's dead, and the rationing is hardly generous. Sometimes my nan makes it though," he added, happily.

"Elizabeth!"

Buffy turned her head to see her mother standing in the window, calling her to dinner. She nodded, obediently, and twisted to face William once more to say goodbye and offer her sympathy for his father's death, but he was gone. Scouring her neighbour's garden, she saw not even the slightest hint of blonde. She frowned, and started towards her house again, her head full of the strange young boy who was unknowingly falling in love with her.


	3. Chapter Three: Bombs Away

**A/N Thanks for reviewing - it means so much! I really like writing this fic, and I hope you enjoy reading it! I'd be very grateful if you keep reviewing, it makes me smile :D. This is where the Spuffy romance begins to kick off.**

**PS. Spike is not a vampire. He is a human. Whether or not he stays like this is a mystery to you readers...**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Three

Buffy sat eating breakfast, shovelling in her porridge hungrily. She caught her mother's eye and slowed, reluctantly, looking sheepish. She drank the milk in the glass beside her plate, and excused herself, drifting into the living room, dreamily. It had been a strange night. Normally Buffy's dreams consisted of the events that had happened in whatever book she had read that day, or what she had heard on the wireless, but last night somebody new made an appearance. William.

Buffy shook her head, frustrated, and instead chose to look out of the front window. Today was not so nice. The sky was a gloomy grey, and she could hardly see the sun behind the murky clouds. That was the only thing Buffy disliked about Britain – other than the war. The weather was so unpredictable. Buffy thought it might be nice to live somewhere exotic, like India, where it was always so hot. It would have to be without her mother, of course. She couldn't live with Joyce constantly harping on about the use of a parasol in such hot weather.

A sudden flash of blue woke Buffy from her Indian daydream. The postman had arrived in Buffy's road – but he had completely missed out her house. She opened the window, and called out.

"Excuse me! Mr Postman!"

The young man, who had a handsome, good-natured looking face grinned at Buffy, and shook his bag in a proud manner. "Hullo, Lizzie," he said, for this was his own fond abbreviation of her name. "I've got no letters for you today."

The friendly smile disappeared from Buffy's face almost immediately. "Oh," she replied, sadly. "Not even a small postcard from Billy?" The postman shook his head. "O.K. Thank-you very much."

She closed the window, quietly, and the Postman continued his walk to William's house. She had been desperately hoping for news from Billy in Germany. It had been a while since her collection of letters had been added to. Her last one had been during Christmas. It was February now, and he hadn't written for her birthday back in January. Buffy was sure he hadn't forgotten – it was probably just so tiring in the army that there was no time for birthday messages. Still, she was worried.

Her mother entered the room and this point, and Buffy rose from where she had reclaimed her seat on the sofa, politely. Joyce nodded, and both mother and daughter sat, Buffy bored, and Joyce engrossed in her sewing.

"There was no post today," Buffy informed her mother. "Jim passed straight over us to next-door."

"The Boones?" asked Joyce, thoughtfully. "I shouldn't think anyone would care to write to them, they're very anti-social people indeed. Anne – Mrs Boone – was very impolite when I went and said hello all those years ago when they first moved in. You would have thought I was asking for a hundred pounds!"

Boone. So that was William's surname. Buffy repeated it over and over in her head. It was unusual, and she knew nobody else with a name like it. Then again, William was unusual, and she knew nobody else like him.

"And the boy, he's very sullen; a strange boy. I'm surprised you could keep up a conversation with him, yesterday. I don't really approve of you talking to him…" Joyce stopped. "What are you going to do now, Elizabeth?"

At once, Buffy looked around for a book to bury her head into. Joyce frowned on boredom – insisted there was no excuse. Buffy couldn't find one, or any other pastime to indulge in, and instead declared that she was going outside.

Joyce harrumphed. "Really, Elizabeth," she said. "We have barely been in the same room for more than five minutes since Billy left. Don't you find the outdoors dull?"

"Not at all, Mama," Buffy insisted, and her mother waved her away.

"Do as you please," she replied, surrendering. "But keep in the shade; I couldn't bare it if you became one of those freckled things you see on the streets." Buffy bit her lip at her mother's impertinence. Sometimes she almost forgot her place and was on the brink of telling her mother to become more open-minded.

But instead of retorting, she bent her head and made her way into the dreary morning air. The gentle zephyr kissed her cheeks, and she disobeyed her mother, heading straight for the heart of the garden, where the sun would hit once it emerged from behind the clouds. She looked over to her neighbour's house, to see it that the curtains were closed downstairs, and the upstairs looked dark. Buffy wondered if Anne Boone thought the blackout extended to the daytime. She looked away, sadly.

"We'll meet again… don't know where, don't know when," Buffy sang sweetly, and flawlessly, thinking of Billy. "But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."

"You always seem to be singing," remarked a cool voice, and Buffy leapt up, heart hammering, her face a brilliant red.

"Oh, William!" she cried, with a hand to her chest. "You made me jump!" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I can't talk to you long…" She trailed off, ashamed of the explanation.

"…because Mama wouldn't approve?" he finished for her. "It's O.K, us East-Londoners do get the brush off sometimes – we're common, aren't we? I knew it was a mistake moving to this part of London, but Mum was dead set on spending her inheritance from Gran on a nice house. We didn't realise she was so bleeding rich, or we would have bled her dry before she popped her clogs…"

"I don't think you're common," said Buffy, truthfully. "I like you, even if you do have a funny accent." William laughed, and it made Buffy's spine tingle. His chortle was full of mirth and good humour, and it made Buffy want to sing again. She wandered closer to the fence and to William, thoughts of her mother vanishing into thin air.

"Cockney accent," he explained. "I guess it didn't sound so different back in the East End, but down here with all you higher-class people…" He pondered. "What was that you were singing? Sounds familiar."

"We'll Meet Again," declared Buffy. "It's my favourite, ever since I heard Vera Lynn sing it on the wireless. But you weren't meant to hear it."

William grinned. "Nah, it was good," he said, causing Buffy to blush again. "I wish my Ma had a voice like that. It would have made those nursery rhymes sound much better when I was a tot." He looked up at the sky, and Buffy was grateful that the penetrating eye contact had been broken. "Horrible day, innit?"

"It's nowhere near as nice as yesterday," she replied, glancing at the gloomy clouds. "Look at that black mass over there!"

"Wait, that's…" began William, and Buffy's pulse began to quicken.

"Not clouds," added Buffy, and with that, the air raid siren rang through the streets, and both Anne and Joyce came running out of their respective homes, calling their children.

"Quick, William!" cried Anne, and he ran to his mother. "We'll have to run to the bomb shelter down the street!"

"Stay in ours!" Buffy offered in her panic, to her mother's disapproval, but both the Boones were climbing over the white picket fence into the Summer's garden and together the four neighbours clambered into the small building at the edge of the lawn. Once Joyce had sealed the doorway, Anne rushed to embrace her, kissing her cheek gratefully. This seemed to soften Buffy's mother.

"Thank-you," Anne gushed, as the first crash sounded, and shook the ground. "William and I may have been dead by now." Joyce nodded, speechlessly, and gestured for Anne to join her on one of the beds, as William and Buffy sat on the other. The silence was an opportunity for Buffy to observe his mother.

She was tall and slender, and with long, blonde hair that curled around her face. She had a hooked nose, but her eyes were kind, and her cheeks flushed. Altogether she was a graceful woman, if not a little haughty.

A second crash sounded, and Buffy grasped William's hand in fright. To her surprise, he did not pull away. Instead, he extended an arm around her, and pulled her tighter. "It's O.K," he whispered in her ear, whilst Joyce was snooping around for something for the thrown-together family to eat. "We'll be fine."

"What about my father?" hissed Buffy, and she felt as if her senses were on fire as the ground shook for the third time. "He's down the mines!"

"He'll be safe underground," replied William, and Buffy snuggled closer to his warm chest. Her fast breathing slowed, and the tears in her eyes disappeared as she lowered her lids. As the minutes that passed turned into hours and the all-clear did not sound, the Boone and the Summers family sat still in the shelter that was still intact.

An hour later, the heavenly sound of the all-clear rang through the streets, and Anne and Joyce stirred from their stiff positions in the cramped shelter. Joyce unlocked the door and pushed it open, exhaling the fresh air that met them, and the slight stench of smoke. Somewhere near had been hit.

"Elizabeth?" William tried to stir Buffy, but she lay still on his chest. She had fallen asleep in her terror. "Elizabeth, wake up. It's fine."

A soft snore answered him, and he moved his other hand to squeeze her fingers. He heard a slight _crunch _as he did so, and he uncurled Buffy's hand to find that she was holding a piece of paper tightly in her fist. He unravelled the piece of paper and read the inked words.

_Hullo Buffy, its Billy here! Being run off our feet here in the trenches, but there seems to be a good atmosphere buzzing about – seeing as it is Christmas. Tell Mama I love my red knitted socks, I'm the envy of the whole platoon! Dawn sent me this awful balaclava, I look ridiculous in it (!) though I've told Mama to tell her I'm grateful. It's a miracle anything can be sent to us, we're on the move so much. We're heading up to Northern France soon, so I'll write when I get there. Shouldn't take us more than a month to get there._

_All my love, Billy xxx_

To his disgust, William found he was crying. He brushed away the wet hurriedly in time for Buffy to rouse from her slumber, and sit up confusedly. "Is it over?" she asked. "Have we had the all-clear?"

William scrunched the letter up in his fist again, and nodded. "Yep," he said, and he handed her the paper. "Here, it fell out of your pocket," he lied, and Buffy took it from him with a frown.

"That's odd," she replied. "I thought I was holding this." William froze. "It must have just been my dream."

"William!" Anne called, and Buffy moved herself off his lap instantly.

"I'd better go," said William, and he waved goodbye.

"Goodbye, William," Buffy whispered sadly. "Thanks for looking after me."

"It was no problem," stated William, cheerfully. "Goodbye, Buffy."

It took the time of William leaving the bomb shelter and climbing back over the white picket fence for Buffy to realise what William had just called her.


	4. Chapter Four: The Lamp Post

**A/N Thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter Three. I hope you like this chapter, I know I did. This is for Megan, my best friend. She introduced me to fanfiction, and also to the art of shamless advertising. Here you go, buddy.**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Four

It was the Jones' house that had been bombed. Buffy was shaken by the stench of death in the air. She sat completely still on the sofa, drinking her cocoa, awaiting her father's return and listening to the wireless. Five bombs had been dropped in total, scattered across various areas of London. There was no news yet on the total amount of casualties.

The Jones family had been friendly people. When Buffy was younger she had played with the youngest child, Penelope, out on the streets, and had taken home an extra-large slice of Mrs Jones' seed cake for her mother. And now to think that both Penelope and Mrs Jones… along with Penny's two other siblings and Mr Jones… it made Buffy feel quite sick.

"Elizabeth?" called her mother, her tone softer than usual. "How are you feeling?"

Buffy gulped. "Upset," she replied, her untouched cocoa growing cold in her hand. "I can't believe the Joneses are dead." Joyce looked sad also, and she extended an arm around her daughter, a display of affection she rarely employed.

"I know, dear," she said. "Hetty – Mrs Jones to you – was always so kind. But here-" She produced a plate of seed cake. "I've brought you a treat."

Buffy felt the vomit rise in her throat, and she ran upstairs, gripping the sink and releasing all the pent-up misery. She sobbed, loudly, eyes blinded by the sea of tears that were slowly making their way down the plughole. She managed to refrain from vomiting which she knew took some effort, and sat down on her bed, wiping the tears from her pink cheeks.

"Elizabeth! Are you O.K?" Joyce's voice rang through the silence.

"Yes," she answered, gloomily. "I'll just be a minute."

She lay down on her bed, the cool pillow calming her, and her heart rate slowing. She had to be strong, she told herself. The Joneses are gone, but she was still here. Buffy sat up, and spotted a familiar face at the opposite window. It was William.

"Hello, Buff," he said, warmly, as the pair opened their windows. Buffy bit her lip, confusedly. How had he found out about her nickname?

"It's Elizabeth," she replied, not entirely correcting him. She softened. "Or at least Buffy. But I think I shall have to draw the line at… 'Buff'."

"Fine, fine," William muttered, winking at her. "Wait… are you crying, Buff?"

"Buffy!" she cried, and William jumped. She sniffed. "Yes, I am."

"Over the Joneses?" he asked, reading her mind. "Oh yeah, I remember. I used to see you playing with Penny."

"Mrs Jones used to give me seed cake," Buffy wailed, mournfully. "And send me home with an extra-large slice! And now she's gone, along with Penny. It just doesn't seem fair. They were so nice."

"War is never fair, Buffy," said William, kindly. "I tell you what, I'm come over and cheer you up. I'll be over in a second."

"Wait!" shouted Buffy, and William froze. His window was half-way to being closed. "Mama-"

"It's O.K," he whispered, sneakily. "I'm bringing Mum. Your ma loves her; they've become great friends since…" Buffy's eyes welled up. "I'm sorry. I'll be there soon."

Buffy ran down the stairs, her mood suddenly lighter. She informed her mother of their new guests, and Joyce clucked like a chicken, fretting about the state of the house. There was not a speck of dust that Buffy could see, though she knew that even if there was just a millimetre of dirt in the hallway, Joyce would spot it. Buffy was thrown a dustpan and brush to sweep the scraps of mud in the hallway, and Joyce saw to the two dishes in the sink. It was obvious that concerns about Mr. Summers were soon forgotten.

The doorbell rang, and Joyce and Buffy greeted their guests at the doorway, both with slightly tinged-pink cheeks. Joyce brought Anne through the house immediately for a cup of tea, and left Buffy to smile at William on the doorstep.

"Aren't you going to come in?" she asked him, as William was not removing his gloves or coat. He shook his head.

"If it's alright with your Ma," he offered. "I'd like you to come for a walk." Buffy glanced nervously at her mother.

"One second," she said. "I'll go and ask."

"I'm not sure that's wise, Elizabeth," her mother replied, sipping her tea sceptically. "Especially in light of current events."

"I suspect William will take her no further than the end of the road," said Anne, and Buffy felt a rush of affection for her friend's mother. "And there is a bomb shelter there, if the Germans feel a need to attack us again. My son cares for your daughter very much, Joyce; I doubt he would put her in danger."

Buffy gave her mother a pleading look, and Joyce surrendered. "Remember your scarf," she reminded her daughter, and Buffy laid a quick kiss on her mother's cheek. She plucked her scarf from the coat stand, and wrapped it around her neck, along with her coat. Dipping her feet into her boots, she was ready to go.

"Madam," said William, graciously, offering his arm to Buffy, which she stood, smiling.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, curiously.

"Only a few yards down, to begin with," he told her. "But in the end, no further than the end of the road." Anne had been right, after all. But Buffy would have gladly disobeyed her mother to follow William. It was strange how she felt around him.

After less than thirty paces, William stopped Buffy in front of an old, gnarly oak tree. Buffy examined it, carefully, and found it was no different to any other oak tree in the street. She wondered why he had chosen this particular spot.

"This is an oak tree," she declared, and William laughed.

"Well done, Miss Buffy," he said, and sat her down at its roots. "But to expand on that, this is the oak tree that you were sat under, reading, on the day I moved into this house."

Buffy tried to remember, but her memory would not allow her that far back. There had been a boy next door for as long as she had known. "Really?" she asked. "I can't remember that at all!"

"You must have only been about five," William replied, thoughtfully. "I was seven. But even as a little boy, I remember thinking, 'Wow. That's a pretty young girl.' And you are, Buffy."

Buffy blushed, and hugged William in a rush. He took her hand. "It's funny how it's taken me eleven years to tell you so, though." He helped her up, and they continued walking.

"Any news of your dad, yet?" he asked her, still clasping her hand tightly. "On the wireless, or a telephone call?"

"No," said Buffy, and she hung her head, sadly. William put this thumb under her chin and raised her head to look at him. "He's going to be fine," he said, and Buffy snuggled into his warm chest again. William tried to ignore how his heart seemed to hammer at this, and kept walking.

They came to the end of the road, and the final lamppost. Buffy knew it must have been about three years since that lamppost had last been switched on, as the Blackout had come into action almost immediately after war had been declared.

"This lamppost," said William, breaking Buffy's thoughts. "Was where my father and mother had stopped to say goodbye one day, after they had been courting a while. My mother used to live up in that house," he added, gesturing up to a fairly large red-brick house. Buffy's mouth opened in surprise, and William noticed before she could shut it again. "Oh yes," he continued. "My Ma was rich, before she married my Dad." Buffy smiled. "But anyway. This lamppost was where my parents shared their first kiss." William blushed. "I just thought it would be interesting to tell you that."

Buffy reacted on impulse – something she never normally did – and leant forwards very quickly to peck William on the lips. William was so surprised that he wasn't even sure it had happened, until he noticed Buffy's cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

"Buffy…" began William, cautiously. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Oh, Will!" she cried, mortified. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me. I hope you'll forgive me – please don't mention it to my mother-"

Buffy's babbling was cut short by William, who had bent his head to bestow a longer kiss on Buffy's lips under the lamppost, and Buffy's breath caught in her throat. The kiss was warm, and soft. It was so gentle, yet full of affection and caring. Buffy had never felt like this before, and now she knew why Billy had not wanted to let Dawn go. She liked everything about this kiss.

Except for the fact that it turned her insides to jelly. She wasn't too keen on that bit.


	5. Chapter Five: By the Fence

**A/N A kinda short chapter, I'm sorry. I was suffering from writer's block, and then when I finally came up with a solution, it was too soon to put it in this chapter. Please keep reading and reviewing, I'll try not to take so long with the next update.**

**Many thanks, **

**Moondancing Millie**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Five

Hank Summers returned home to his family that night, alive and well. And for this, Buffy made sure her prayers were especially long, thanking God over and over again for keeping him safe.

Visits from William and his mother became quite regular. Buffy kept quiet about her and William's kiss under the lamppost, as she didn't think she could bear the embarrassment of telling her mother. Although William was growing on Joyce – due to her friendship with Anne – she would not have been too happy about the courtship if she knew.

It was a Thursday, just over a week after the bombing, and Joyce had invited Anne over, and as usual, William had tagged along. The two children were sitting in the kitchen, as their mothers gossiped in the living room.

"I'm sorry we can't talk in my bedroom, Will," Buffy whispered, as the two shared a slice of chocolate cake. "Mama doesn't think it's proper for a boy to be in my room." William grinned, wolfishly. "What?" Buffy asked him.

"Nothing," he replied. "It's just that you called me Will." Buffy blushed.

"Haven't I called you that before?" she asked, concentrating more on digging her fork into the cake that focusing on his face. "I could have sworn-"

"Never Will," William said, still smiling. "Always William."

Buffy felt William's warm hand over hers, and returned his gentle smile. He leant over the table and brought his face closer to hers. Buffy closed her eyes, preparing her stomach for the odd sensation she was about to feel…

"William? Time to go!"

Anne's voice shocked both Buffy and William, and Buffy opened her eyes at once to see William had returned to his previous position nonchalantly, and their fingers were no longer linked. Will turned around to see his mother waiting in the doorway of the kitchen. Buffy couldn't help but notice that there was a twinkle in her eyes.

Buffy rose as Will did, and bade him farewell with a nervous smile. He returned it, mouthing the words "Fence, at five". Buffy grinned. Perfect. She couldn't go a moment without thinking about William. When she wasn't with him, she thought about him. She had never felt this way before. It was odd, and it did no good for her stomach.

William felt sad as he left the Summers's house. Being with Buffy was just so much better than just letting her run riot in his head. But he knew it would only be a matter of hours before he saw her again, and that cheered him up. If only he could tell his mother. But he knew that could never happen, as Anne was sure to tell Joyce immediately.

"William," his mother spoke abruptly, and he snapped to attention. Anne smiled gently. "Your grandfather and I feel its best that you visit your cousin Mary for a while. Just until the war calms down a little." William couldn't stop the look of horror spread across his face.

"And leave… London?" he asked, though his mind raced to picture one specific girl in London. Anne narrowed her eyes at his excuse. "I couldn't, Mum. I can't leave you here. Imagine if what happened to the Jones happened to you! I couldn't bear it." Anne looked affectionately down at her son.

"Is it really just me you're concerned about?" she asked carefully, reaching to tuck a wiry piece of Will's hair behind his ear. "Or is there maybe another reason you want to stay in London?"

"No!" he cried, a little too quickly. "Why do you ask?"

* * *

It was quarter to five, but Buffy already had her best dress on and had brushed her hair a thousand times nervously. Pinching her cheeks so she wouldn't look quite so pale, she fretted about on the patio, waiting for the minutes to pass.

Would it be too bold of her to be there ten minutes early? She was sure William would be watching out for her from his bedroom window, so it wasn't as if she would waiting for those ten minutes.

She stepped off the patio, hoping frantically that her mother would be preoccupied with her sewing for the duration of her meeting with Will. She leant over the white picket fence to see him sat on the grass, reading.

"Will!" she exclaimed in surprise, and William jumped at the sound of her voice. "What are you doing down there?"

"I didn't expect you here yet, Buff," he replied, in a gruff voice, and he shook grass out of his collar, and grinned up at her.

"Couldn't wait any longer," she replied shyly, and permitted William to lay a quick kiss on her lips. She adored the way he tasted – like ready salted crisps, which had been rationed now because of the way. She opened her eyes and placed a hand on her stomach to calm the butterflies, and saw that William was smiling at her.

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"Please don't get in a flap," he warned her. "But Mum knows. About you and me, I mean. It wasn't my fault, she figured it out, and it was a complete accident-"

"Oh, Will," sighed Buffy, and she clasped his hand. "It doesn't matter. I should probably tell my mother too, but it would be terribly awkward. Just imagine her reaction!"

William's expression was rather comical as he thought about Mrs Summers, and Buffy giggled. A tingle ran up William's spine as she did so – her laugh was one of the things he loved best about Buffy. Her laugh and the half-purse action she did with her lips subconsciously. It was the only thing that made her resemble her mother.

He gestured for Buffy to move out of the way, and he surmounted the fence in a clumsy, haphazard manner. Buffy helped him by clutching his hand before he fell onto his face, and he winked, gratefully.

"Come here," he said, and he led her down the side of the house, of our sight from either prying mother. In the shadows it was dark, and it made Buffy's heart race. William kept hold of her fingers protectively, and leant in for a more intimate kiss.

Buffy's pulse sped quicker than before as soon as his lips touched hers. The kiss was more daring than anything Buffy had ever ventured in. Cooped up in her house and mother's arms for the past sixteen years, Buffy had never experienced the pleasures of romance before, but it excited her. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as William's hand ran up her back, and her breathing became shallow as she was gently pushed up against the wall, five of William's fingers supporting her back whilst the other five running through her golden hair. It thrilled her beyond anything she could understand, but she would give anything – _anything_ – for it to continue.

"Oh, Will," Buffy whispered, in the brief seconds where their lips weren't touching, and she watched William's lips part, ready to reply.

"Buff-"

But the sweet nothings Buffy's ears were about to receive were interrupted by a sound that shook Buffy all the way through her body. It was a bloodcurdling shriek that rang loud and high through the garden, and through the walls of the house. Birds shot out of the trees nearby, and William nearly dropped Buffy against the wall in surprise.

It was the shriek of Joyce Summers. And something was terribly wrong.


	6. Chapter Six: Heartbreak

**A/N Thanks for all the reviews I had last chapter. Um...this chapter has a lot to take in - I kind of suck at angst, so if the ending is horrific, please let me know. I need constructive critisicm. R&R!**

**Mil**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Six

Buffy tore her lips from William's and ran into the house – her once thrilled and warm body now cold and clammy with fear. William followed quite quickly, tripping up the steps as he chased after his sweetheart, who was a flurry of floral fabric and blonde hair in her panic. She found her mother in the lounge, re-reading a letter over and over again, as if the words inked on the page didn't quick make sense to her.

"What is it, Mama?" Buffy asked worriedly, and Joyce handed the paper not to Buffy but to William, who read silently, his pulse becoming slower and slower as he absorbed the news.

_To the family of William Summers,_

_We regret to inform you of the death of William Summers, who was killed in action on February 15__th__, 1942. I hope the fact that his was a noble death will console you, and we offer our greatest sympathies. _

It gave the names of Billy's platoon commanders, and several majors, and it made William's heart ache to see Joyce sob uncontrollably on the settee. He couldn't hand the letter to Buffy. It was too cold, too blunt, and too impersonal. Instead he dropped the letter to the floor, and took Buffy in his arms, crying on her shoulder.

"It's Billy, isn't it?" she whispered, in his ear, and his gentle weep confirmed that it was. Buffy wrapped her arms around William and howled into his shirt, soaking his shoulder but the two were past caring. She sniffed and she sobbed, and she ran to her mother to console her. William couldn't stop his own tears. To see Buffy so distressed and hurt and miserable made him feel like his own was torn in two, and he couldn't bear it. He left the grieving mother and child curled up in each other's arms and retreated to the kitchen to make cups of tea. Nothing couldn't be solved with a good cup of tea, his mother had always said, but Will was forced to admit she could be wrong this time. He poured the scalding hot water into three mugs, and considered calling round for his mother. She was always better at these sorts of things. He couldn't pull himself together – let alone Joyce or Buffy.

He dropped a mug to the floor with a crash and held his hands up to his head in frustration. He was a man – eighteen years old – and he couldn't deal with a tragedy?

_**"William?" Anne said timidly. "Sit down, dear. I have something I need to tell you."**_

_**"Alright…" William replied confusedly, and he sat on the sofa, twisting his hands together nervously. "What is it, Mum?"**_

_**"I shouldn't be telling my sixteen year-old son this!" she cried, and she rocked back and forth as tears fell down her cheeks. William was at her side in an instant, soothing his mother and offering her his handkerchief. She took it gratefully, and held his hand in hers.**_

_**"What's wrong, Mum?" he tried again, his heart pounding nervously in his stomach. "Tell me! Is it Dad?"**_

_**Anne burst into another round of sobs, which alerted him to the fact that it was indeed his father. After many pauses and sniffs, Anne had informed her son that he had been killed down the mines by a toxic gas. He curled up to his mother and kissed her shoulder, the pair of them lying like that until the sun went down. In silence, the two broken hearts beating as one.**_

He hadn't been much use then, and he was even worse now. Buffy sat crossed-legged in the corner of the sofa, and he handed her the tea in silence, kneeling down to offer Joyce a mug too. She took it without a word, and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. Buffy's face was pale and blotched, and she stared at the wireless mindlessly, unsure of what to do. William sat by her, tending the cut he had on his hand from the broken mug. She took his hand, her cool fingers soothing his wound, and kissed it, the blood steadily dripping from it onto her lips. William moved with her handkerchief to wipe it away, and leaned in to kiss her rosebud lips clean, his tongue moving over the interior of her mouth before breaking away, and giving her hand back to her. He couldn't do this – he didn't know how to act at all in the situation. He walked silently out of the house, and hopped over the fence, before breaking down on the lawn and feeling his heart burst with Buffy's pain.

X

"Joyce, dear, you must eat," Anne pleaded with her neighbour, lifting a plate holding a sandwich in front of her face. "It'll do you good. You look awfully pale."

"Where's Elizabeth?" Joyce asked, her eyes bloodshot and watery. William glanced towards the stairs.

"In her bedroom," he answered, and Joyce took a reluctant bite of her sandwich. "She should eat," was all she said.

"Take this up to her room, William," Anne ordered, handing William another sandwich. "Her mother is right." Will looked at the stairway again. It was a female's bedroom – a domain he was usually banned from. But his mother's begging look over-ruled it, and he accepted the plate. He started up the stairs, careful not to drop the white bread sandwich.

He knocked once on her door – the bright colourful wooden letters on her door spelling out "Elizabeth" showing which room was hers – and entered. Buffy looked surprised to see him, but she smiled weakly. He handed her the plate.

"You should eat something," he said. "My mum insists."

"Your mother is kind," Buffy replied, and she smoothed her skirt and stretched her legs out across the carpet. "But I can't eat. There's a lump in my throat, and it won't go away."

William sat next to Buffy and leant against the end of her bed, closing his eyes and holding her hand.

"You don't have to eat it," he whispered softly. "We can just sit." Buffy put her head on his knees and sighed.

"You're so wonderful, Will," she said, and he wrapped a protective arm around her. "I'm a mess of knotted hair and tear-stained cheeks and you still want to be around me."

"I will _always_ want to be around you," Will reassured her fiercely. "I know nothing will bring him back, but I want you to know I'm here. Always."

"Always?" Buffy repeated, slowly.

"Always," William said again, and he bent down to kiss her on the lips, delving deep into her mouth tenderly whilst stroking her hair and running his fingertips up and down her arm. "I love you Buffy."

Buffy blinked… once, twice, and William pulled his mouth away from hers. She pursed her lips confusedly.

"Tell me that again," she said. "Tell me that you love me."

"I love you," William said obediently.

"Again."

"I love you." She knelt beside him and kissed him firmly.

"Again," she ordered, and he did. She kissed him again and again, handing him her pain through the contact of their lips, not sure why she couldn't stop kissing him, and wondering why those three words made her feel on fire. She moved her fingers up to the collar of his shirt and undid the first few buttons, his breathing becoming shallower and her pulse quickening. She kept her mouth glued to his and climbed onto his lap, fingering the buttons of his shirt and slipping them undone before he sat shirtless and dazzled. She ran a hand down his chest, before his warm fingers caught it, and her mouth released him.

"Buffy," he said, calmly. "We have to stop."

"Why?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"Because it's not right."


	7. Chapter Seven: Shade of Grey

**A/N Thanks for all the reviews! Its the most it's been in a while, so keep it up!**

**Mil**

**I like this chapter. I'm not sure why.**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Seven

William greeted Buffy outside her house, and mood was sombre. Buffy stepped out, holding a black umbrella sadly, dressed in a demure shade of grey, and her usually free blonde hair was scraped into a blonde bun. Her skin was pale, her eyes sullen, and her lips pursed and pain-tightened. William took her hand silently, and walked her to the end of the path.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her quietly, as Joyce left the house arm-in-arm with Hank Summers, her complexion almost identical to Buffy's. Hank pulled the door tight, and then nodded to his wife. Buffy turned from where she had been watching the scene, and blinked, unsure of her answer.

"Sick," she replied, eventually. William squeezed her hand. "Yesterday we received three seed cakes from the neighbours. Mama forced at least a hundred pieces down my throat yesterday." She laughed feebly, and Will made a gentle retort to encourage the light-heartedness.

"Hello, Joyce," Anne greeted her friend cautiously, and nodded courteously to Hank. "It's going to be O.K."

"She's right, you know," William said, nodding towards his mother. "It will get better." Buffy looked doubtful, as they began to walk down the street. Buffy felt nervous – sure most of the neighbours would be watching through their windows, if not following them to the church for the funeral.

"It's what I want to believe," she answered. "And it's what everyone is telling me. I just miss him so much."

"I know," William whispered tenderly in her ear.

The sky was an appropriate grey, the clouds hanging so low it was like they were waiting to listen to every word the Summerses and the Boones said to one another. There was a light drizzle in the air, and a cool wind that caressed Buffy's tingling cheeks. She grazed her face thoughtfully, an image of Billy rising in her mind.

_**"Buffy!" Billy cried, charging towards his little sister and embracing her, swinging her around and around till her feet lifted off the floor. "Gosh, you're heavy now!"**_

_**"Well I **_**am **_**six," Buffy announced proudly, sticking out her chin. Billy frowned, sticking out his chest and flexing his non-existent muscles.**_

_**"Big deal," he replied. "I'm eight now, and I'm bigger than you're ever going to be. I'm a man – and I'm going to fight in the army, you'll see. I'm going to save our country, and I'm going to get a big shiny medal."**_

_**"And all the girls will want to court you?" Buffy added, gazing admiringly up at her big brother. "Like Dawn Giles, the reverend's daughter?" **_

_**Billy stuck out his tongue in disgust. "Yuck – no girls!" he declared, looking revolted. "No, I'm going to be the envy of all the men in the street. I will have saved England!"**_

_**"That's right, son," said Hank, walking past his children and clapping Billy on the shoulder. "You're going to be our little soldier."**_

_**"My brother the soldier." Buffy tested it out on her tongue, and smiled. "I like it."  
**_

_**"Good," decided Billy. "Get used to it, Buffy."**_

Billy's dream hadn't faded, Buffy thought, as she padded silently down the street. He'd been just as enthusiastic when the search for young men had been announced, and their father had allowed him to put his name down. Hank had even pinned their grandfather's badge to his uniform, and clapped him on the back in the same way before he got on the train. They had all expected him to come back.

But now he was gone.

Buffy dropped William's hand to wipe a tear from her eye, hoping to be discreet, but he noticed. He wrapped a protective arm around his sweetheart, and kissed her cheek. Anne watched them, affectionately. She had no doubt that her son would offer the companionship Buffy needed right now, but she worried for William. His heart was fragile, easily broken. Buffy didn't know the power she had over him.

The church was only a few minutes down the street, and the steeple loomed into view quite quickly. Reverend Giles was there to greet the families, Dawn by his side, weeping into her handkerchief. She bent down to kiss Buffy's cheek – a gesture that for once, Buffy did not decline.

"Dawn…" Joyce said quietly, and she kissed her would-be daughter-in-law on both cheeks, before doing the same to Reverend Giles, who muttered kind words into her ear.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs Summers," he said, and he shook Hank's hand as he followed his wife into the church. "Hank…Billy was a great man. I speak on behalf of my family and the church community – we are all here." Hank nodded graciously.

Buffy couldn't meet the Reverend's benevolent eyes. She kept her gaze on the floor, and Giles understood. Losing her brother was a loss no child of any age should have to comprehend. William shook his hand though, and Giles's face creased with a smile. He was a good boy, he could feel it.

Finally, he swept into the church, and silence fell on the grieving villagers. Billy's coffin lay at the front, by the altar, and Buffy was knelt before it, whispering words incoherent to any spectators.

"We are gathered here today to grieve the death and celebrate the life of a William Rupert Summers," the Reverend read aloud from his script, meeting Joyce's eyes. She looked away hurriedly, blushing into her handkerchief.

"William was a good man, a courteous and courageous boy, and will be missed by many. The church and it's community offer it's deepest sympathies to William's family – to Mrs Joyce Summers, to Hank Summers, and to Elizabeth…" Giles trailed off and looked directly at Buffy. "…a dedicated sister. And now we shall begin our readings…"

To Buffy, the entire service was a blur. Every time she heard Billy's name, she looked up, expecting him to be standing before them, only to be disappointed when no such miracle occurred. Will didn't release her fingers the whole time, his eyes constantly on her, his heart beating fast every time he spied a tear. He had to resist mopping her face. Such displays of affection were not tolerated in a church.

As soon as the congregation was dismissed, Buffy jumped up from her pew and made her way out of the church, the stuffy atmosphere unbearable. The rain from the sunken clouds drenched her immediately, before she had time to put up her umbrella, and she tossed it aside, running home.

"Buffy!" William cried, chasing after her, his feet squelching every time they hit the pavement. "Buffy, come back!"

She ignored him, or simply couldn't hear him over the rain, William couldn't tell. But he managed to catch her, and he pulled on her dress – the nearest part of her he could reach – and she stopped immediately, out of breath and sobbing.

"It's not fair!" she yelled, collapsing into his neck and drumming her fists on his chest. "Why did Billy have to die? There are a million men who could never be as wonderful as Billy…why?"

"Ssh…ssh…" Will urged, stroking her hair, and leading her up the path towards his house, so that they were under shelter. "Buffy-"

"I don't know…how I'm…ever going to feel O.K!" she howled. "I feel like taking a gun to my head!"

"Buffy!" William was shocked. "Do you really think there is nothing in this life to live for?" Buffy looked up, her tear-stained face ashamed. She shook her head, closing her eyes, and rested against his chest. She could hear his heart beating. It was soothing.

"No," she replied, eventually. "I didn't mean that – you have to know that, Will. I'm sorry."

William kissed the top of her head. "It's O.K," he said, softly. Buffy sniffed.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Because I love you," he replied, simply.

Buffy couldn't find the words to answer. Instead, she sat there, with a single tear rolling down her cheek.


	8. Chapter Eight: Eleven Months Later

**A/N Sorry for the wait! I hope you like this chapter! R&R!**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Eight

**Eleven Months Later**

"Happy…birthday…to…you…."

Buffy winched at her family's awful singing, but smiled anyway. The sight of the cake on the table before her was almost overwhelming – she could smell the sweet icing and her stomach was rumbling. She blew out the candles obediently, pulling her hair back with one hand.

"Seventeen!" she cried in amazement. "I feel so old!"

William laughed the loudest, shooting his girl a special wink. It had been almost a year since they had begun courting, yet the flip his stomach gave was exactly the same from the first day.

"Yummy…" Buffy muttered, surrendering to the smell of the cake and plucking a small piece of icing from the top and slipping it into her mouth. Her mother shot her a warning look.

"Elizabeth, that cake has to go around many people! Wait your turn!"

Indeed there were many people at Buffy's birthday celebration. There was William, of course – who was in fact deep in conversation with her father, along with his mother, plus several neighbours. There was the reverend, with his wife and his daughter Dawn, and the greengrocer from down the street. Buffy's grandmother had caught the train especially for the occasion.

Her presents had been particularly grand as well, considering the war that was still raging in Britain. She had received a new dress from her parents, with matching socks and hair ribbons – for special occasions and Church only, she'd been instructed – and then from her grandparents she had been presented with a large chocolate cake and a few shillings pocket money. Dawn had presented her with a woven bracelet which she wore now around her wrist, and Anne had bought her a new pair of leather shoes – she was overwhelmed.

It was only William who had not bestowed on her a birthday gift. Buffy couldn't help the excitement writhing inside her – for she knew that if he was waiting it had to be spectacular. She knew it was wrong to expect a present from anyone – but William had told her just last night that he had bought her something she would never forget.

Joyce finally distributed the pieces of cake, and Buffy took a plate hungrily, setting herself down next to William and his mother. Of course, William looked the most handsome man in the room – smartly dressed in a white shirt by his mother and a tie done up to the neck – and his blonde hair was combed backwards so that he looked startlingly proper. Buffy had had to stifle a giggle at the first sight of him.

They ate their cake in silence, and once Buffy had finished licking her fingers – secretively, and avoiding her mother's eye – William took her plate and placed it on the table, facing her in a business-like manner.

"I'd like you to come with me, Buffy." Buffy followed him mindlessly out of the living room and into the hall, where it was very quiet. Buffy could even hear the miserable January rain pelt against the front door. She smiled with anticipation as William reached into his pocket and then froze.

"You know I love you, Buffy, yeah?" He asked anxiously, and Buffy giggled, taking his free hand.

"Of course I know it, silly," she replied, kissing each fingertip gently. "And I love you too."

"Remember the first time I told you I loved you?" William said, reminiscently. Buffy nodded pensively.

"Just after Billy's funeral," she answered. William shook his head in surprise.

"No," he argued. "Don't you remember? It was the day after we found out about Billy – in your bedroom? I suppose you were too heartbroken to remember…" He trailed off. It didn't matter, really. All that was important was that she knew it now.

"I'm sorry, Will," she mumbled apologetically. "Please let's change the subject? I haven't received a birthday kiss yet, you know." He bent down to kiss her obligingly.

"I have a subject change for you," he announced, his fist closing around something in his trouser pocket. "Your birthday present." He withdrew a small blue box and presented it to his sweetheart. "Happy birthday, Buffy." Buffy smiled and snapped the box. The content made her gasp.

"A ring…" She whispered, and she noticed William bend down onto one knee.

"Will you marry me, Elizabeth Anne Summers?" he asked her, and she dropped the ring box in shock. Fortunately, William caught it expertly in one hand. Buffy laughed nervously.

"I…" She shook her head, trying to pull herself together. "Of course, Will!"

William rose immediately, slipping the gold metal onto her finger and kissing her passionately. Buffy's stomach gave a tremendous somersault, as it always did. She broke apart from him finally, clasping his hands with hers. "We have to ask my father first," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

"Already done," he replied, and Buffy leaned into the living room to see Hank grinning from ear to ear – obviously aware of what had happened. It was strange to think William had had a civilised conversation with her father – she had only announced her relationship with him about half a year ago, and since then the two had only spent time together when forced to. But she was glad that William had had the courage. She linked fingers with her fiancé and promenaded into the living room to greet her guests.

"We're engaged!" she cried.

X

"It was really nice of your mother to throw us the party," Buffy muttered in William's ear, whilst they drank their lemonade in the corner of William's living room. The house was considerably darker than Buffy's, but otherwise identical. William squeezed his betrothed's hand affectionately.

"Mum didn't mind at all," he answered. "She wanted something to do – and this was the perfect solution."

"Oh, I see," Buffy replied, teasingly. "So our engagement was just so that your mother wouldn't be unoccupied over the weekend?"

"Yes, that's pretty much it."

He raised her hand and kissed it. "I love you, Buffy."

"You have told me that every single day since we got engaged," Buffy said, laughing. "Are you afraid I will forget?"

"I just want you to know," he said, awkwardly. "Because I do love you, Buffy."

"I believe you!" she laughed, and then she noticed her glass was empty. "Can I get you another drink?" William handed her his glass.

"Surely the gentleman should be attending to his lady's needs?" he asked, as he received a few looks from his company. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Humour me," she pleaded. He nodded, and she left for the kitchen.

She was greeted by her future mother-in-law once she had entered the kitchen, who was pulling a tray of refreshments from the oven. Anne laid her oven gloves on the counter and glanced towards the two cups Buffy held in her hand, and narrowed her eyes. "William doesn't have you fetching his drinks for him, does he?" Buffy smiled.

"No, no, Ms. Boone. I offered to refill his lemonade."

"That's alright, then."

Anne left in silence with a new plate of refreshments to offer her guests, and Buffy quickly filled the glasses up with the transparent, fizzy liquid. She then started towards the living room, and then accidentally spilt some on a letter by the door. She winced in embarrassment, and put the glasses on the counter, trying to save as much as the letter as she could. And then something caught her eye.

**Mr William Boone,**

_**You have been called up to serve your King and country in the current war against Germany. We will expect at your nearest sign-up station on the morning of 28**__**th**__** January, or we will be forced to take legal action.**_

Buffy trembled, and looked up to see William standing in the doorway. He didn't have to ask to know what was wrong.


	9. Chapter Nine: The Goodbye

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Nine

"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow," Buffy murmured into her fiancé's chest sadly. "We just got _engaged_." William sighed, stroking his beloved's hair affectionately.

"I know, pet," he said, the tone of his voice matching hers. "Do you think I _want _to go?" Buffy didn't answer, her mind still tracing the words of William's letter. Tomorrow she would bidding her fiancé farewell, just like she had four years ago for Billy. Billy hadn't returned alive.

"What if you don't come back?" she whispered, voicing their greatest fear. William's heart began pounding – she could hear it through his shirt. He exhaled slowly.

"I will," he said, trying – and failing – to sound confident. "I'm going to come back, Buffy. I'm coming back, and then we'll get married."

"We could get married right now," Buffy mused, thoughtfully. "I'm sure the Reverend would be able to do a quick service – I could wear my mother's dress-"

"No, pet," William said sternly. "You are going to have a big wedding with everyone you want to invite – everything you want to wear, to eat, to do… and it's going to be after Britain has won this war, O.K?"

Buffy wasn't convinced. "I love you," she told him, the two listened to their unsteady breathing. "I just want to you know that."

"I'm going to miss you telling me that everyday," he muttered, playing with her fingers, watching her ring glint in the sunshine that was slowly ebbing away from his bedroom. "And I'm going to miss telling you that, too."

"I'll be there in spirit," Buffy joked. "But for God's sake, keep your concentration on staying alive, don't be too busy trying to send me a mental message telling me you love me." William laughed.

"I promise." They were silent, until Will spoke again, breaking the tension-filled quiet that made Buffy's heart ache. "I'm so glad I said my proper goodbye to Mum earlier. This is a lot harder." Buffy played with the buttons of his shirt. "Buffy…what are you doing?"

"I want something to remember you by," she replied, and she slid the first button out of the slot, exposing William's pale collarbone. Her fingers moved to the second – and then the third, before his long, warm fingers closed over her thin, cold ones. "Will-"

"Don't," he warned her. "I'm not going to die, Buffy. I love you too much for that. I want…I want to do this when I return."

"If you return," Buffy corrected. William shook his head, confidently arguing this time.

"I'm coming back," he told her. "I'm coming back, and I'll make you my wife within hours of me setting back on British soil. You'll be-"

"Mrs Buffy Boone," Buffy finished, wistfully, and then she giggled. "Elizabeth Boone is a married woman's name, don't you think?"

"I think Buffy is perfect," William said, leaning down to kiss her cold nose. She placed a hand on his collar and pulled him closer, kissing his warm lips so hard that their mouths melted together in a bittersweet embrace. Buffy slid her hands up her fiancé's chest, never wanting to let go – never wanting to experience what it would be like without him next to her.

"Promise me you won't fall in love with any beautiful foreign girl," Buffy pleaded, as William got to his feet. He reached down to pull her up to. "No French girls – called Belle, or Claudine, or Emilie…" She trailed off miserably. "And _no _German girls."

"I'll be sure to stick to the Belgians," William offered teasingly, though he sobered up after his fiancée shot him a warning look. He pulled her underneath his chin and kissed the top of her head gently. "I love you, Elizabeth Summers."

"I love you, William Boone." Buffy sighed. "I'm going to miss you."

Will scratched his head. "I'll be back before you know it," he said, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. Buffy heard it too.

X

"He looks so grand in his army uniform," Anne muttered to Joyce, sadly. "I only wish it would stay that pristine."

"Oh, I'm sure if you wash several times it'll come clean from all that mud," Joyce answered, light-heartedly. "I doubt he'll be there long – I read in the newspaper this morning that we're winning the war – we're just lulling the Germans into a false sense of security."

Buffy listened to her mother's trivial conversation gloomily. How could talk about such unimportant things at a time like this? Her fiancé – Anne's son! – was leaving for France in two minutes, and here they were talking about laundry and journalism. Nobody understood the pain she was subjected to – no-one except William, whose sad expression matched hers as he stood motionless next to her.

"I have to go now," he said, as he had two minutes ago. "I should be getting on the train."

"I know," Buffy repeated, from their earlier conversation. "Just two more minutes." She squeezed his hand meaningfully.

"Those boarding the train to France, all aboard!" A low voice bellowed through the tittering crowd, and Buffy faltered, slightly. Her grip on Will's fingers hardened. He pulled away, though unsuccessfully.

"Buffy," he murmured. "I have to go now."

"No," she said. "No, no, no, no!" A few heads turned in their direction, and Buffy clung on to his fingers. "I'm not letting you go," she added, fiercely.

"I have to go," William reinforced. "I know its going to be hard. It's going to be hard for me too. But I will be coming back."

"You don't know that!" Buffy yelled, releasing his hand with such force that he stumbled. "You don't know anything! You could be dead tomorrow and here I'll be in England, not even widowed because you refused to marry me!"

"Buffy," Joyce whispered, embarrassed. She took hold of her daughter, firmly. "William, dear, board the train."

"No!" Buffy cried, devastated. "No, Will, no!"

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Will said, in parting. "But I have to go – they'll arrest me if I don't." Tears poured down their cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you," Buffy replied. "Please, Will, don't-"

"Sir, please board the train." An army official had appeared at William's side. He looked sternly at Buffy, who was beyond despair. She sobbed silently, her body shaking with each jolt. The man shoved William onto the train, who fought for the window seat to wave goodbye to his love.

"I'll be back," he mouthed. Buffy cried harder. "I love you."

The train whistled loudly, and began to chug out of the station. Buffy broke free of her mother's grasp and ran side by side with the train, following William breathlessly until the train disappeared out of sight. Then she collapsed to the floor, howling, rivers of tears falling down her face.

"Excuse me!" Joyce fought her way through the crowd to find her daughter. "Excuse me!" She pushed past the last group of people to find Buffy had gone. She frowned, and turned to see her running out of the station and down the busy streets of London alone. "Elizabeth!"

Buffy didn't stop at the sound of her mother's voice. Her feet pounded the pavement and ached so much, but she kept going, her mind not giving her clear instructions. She was exhausted from her grief, and didn't know where she was going. She just knew she couldn't stop. It was dusk now – almost night. Never a good time to be out and about alone. But that didn't change the anguish Buffy was feeling.

A large figure blocked her path, and she collided heavily with him. He smelt faintly of cigarette smoke, and Buffy wrinkled her nose. He was large, with broad shoulders. She took a tentative step backwards.

"Now, now," he said, huskily. Buffy lifted her face defiantly to meet his. She knew she could shriek louder than anyone she knew – if he attacked her, she knew what to do.

Of course, the smartest thing to do would be to run right then, but something in his eyes captivated her. His face was…angelic, almost, tortured…except for the menacing dark eyebrows knotted together in concentration. His figure was not reflected in the windows of the closed shops to the side of them, but he smiled. Buffy jerked nervously.

"Don't be frightened," he continued, almost flirtatiously. He began to slowly circle her. Buffy noticed that even when he stepped out into the moonlight that his reflection didn't appear on the glass. She frowned confusedly. He smiled at her again, and she noticed how sharp his canines were. He noticed her dubious expression. "I work for Tony Harris." Buffy knew the name – that was the company that had completed refurbishment on the Jones' house down the road after it had been bombed… but this man didn't look like a builder.

He was broad and tall, but he was hardly muscular – not in the way that the sweating builders were in the rare English sunshine when working in Buffy's street. He was wearing a long, black, leather coat, and the shoes on his feet were too aristocratic-looking to be those of the working class. He took her hands – a supposed comforting gesture. They were too soft to be the calloused hands of a labourer. She dropped his fingers immediately.

"What is your name?" he asked softly. Buffy stuttered.

"Anne," she lied, taking instead the name of her future mother-in-law, and in fact, her own middle name. The man smiled faintly.

"Pretty name," he replied. She noticed now how foreign his voice sounded – it had a strong Irish lilt. It was musical, enchanting. "I am Liam – or so my family called me." Buffy noted the past tense. "Now I am called Angel."


	10. Chapter Ten: Calling

**A/N Somewhat a short chapter, and a filler, but I kind of like it. A lot of flashback, though its all in one chunk so you won't get confused. I hope I write Drusilla O.K - I'd like feedback on that, please..**

**R&R!**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Ten

Joyce spotted her daughter and ran up her garden path, hitching up her skirts in an attempt to get there faster. "Elizabeth!" she shrieked. "Where have you been? Your father and I were so worried!"

Buffy stood slowly from where she had perched herself on her doorstep. "I'm sorry, Mama," Buffy replied, her expression blank. "I just couldn't face anybody for a while." Joyce sighed and pulled her daughter into a hug – the display of affection unusual. Buffy remained stiff.

"Elizabeth?" Joyce was concerned. "Are you alright?"

Buffy pushed away her mother. "Yes, Mama," she said, irritably. "I'm fine. I'm going to retire to bed now." She turned and pushed her front door open, wordlessly. Pulling off her boots, and hanging up her coat, she proceeded up the stairs silently. Hank appeared at his wife's side.

"Everything O.K, dear?" he asked, as Joyce made her way into the house. "Elizabeth is safe?" Joyce nodded, but couldn't help feeling that something was wrong with her daughter. She replayed Buffy's motions in her head, trying to figure it out.

"Elizabeth is unharmed," Joyce replied, comforting her husband. "She just seems a little off-colour." Hank laid a hand on his wife's shoulder, before kissing her cheek.

"She'll be alright," he assured her, taking her coat and putting away her boots, before doing his own. "I suppose she'll just want a little time to think."

Joyce sighed. "You're right," she admitted, as they walked together to the living area. "I just get the feeling that something happened tonight that she didn't tell me."

_**"What is your name?" he asked softly. Buffy stuttered.**_

_**"Anne," she lied, taking instead the name of her future mother-in-law, and in fact, her own middle name. The man smiled faintly.**_

_**"Pretty name," he replied. She noticed now how foreign his voice sounded – it had a strong Irish lilt. It was musical, enchanting. "I am Liam – or so my family called me." Buffy noted the past tense. "Now I am called Angel."**_

_**Buffy pursed her lips. It sounded like a pretentious name to her; one made up to impress the gentleladies. She sniffed. It didn't impress her, by any means. If anything, it just confirmed her idea of Angel being a pompous, arrogant ladies man – the complete opposite to her William. She began to walk away, but Angel grabbed hold of her wrist. Buffy froze.**_

_**"Let go off me," she demanded softly, and Angel grinned.**_

_**"So quick to escape," he tutted, and he released her arm, taking a step towards her. "Do you think I'm a dangerous man, Anne? Is that why you are so eager to leave?"  
**_

_**"Yes," Buffy answered honestly. She saw no point in lying. Angel smiled again, his teeth glinted. He was handsome, she supposed. But her head was consumed with images of William – she wasn't interested in making the acquaintance of any other gentlemen. "I'd like to go home, please."**_

_**"She'd like to go home," Angel repeated, and Buffy was confused. It sounded like he was relaying the events for someone else…**_

_**"Silly kitten," came a weak, dreary voice from the darkness. A slim, dark-haired appeared from the shadows, and Buffy stepped backwards, colliding slightly with Angel. She was oddly pretty – her gaunt face balanced with her large dark eyes; her soft long hair falling in deep turrets. She smiled dreamily at Buffy, waggling her long, pale fingers. "Meow – hiss! – kitten doesn't like us, Daddy."**_

_**To Buffy's surprise, Angel went to greet the girl. He took her in his arms, and rocked her slowly, as if she was his daughter. He broke his lips to her ear and spoke in a suggestive way that told Buffy that he was definitely not her father. "Hush now, Dru, Daddy's got you a little treat." The girl chuckled in childlike delight.**_

_**"A treat!" she gasped wistfully and she made towards a frightened Buffy. Buffy took another step backwards, yet to her surprise, Angel was behind her in a flash and caught her shoulders to keep her still. Buffy's breath caught in her throat. **_

_**"Anne," he drawled, his voice thick with passion – though Buffy had no idea who for. "This is Drusilla…I have a feeling the two of you are going to be the best of friends." Buffy watched Drusilla cautiously as the girl moved like a tiger, circling her.**_

_**"Is she going to be one of us, Daddy?" Drusilla purred, stroking her own dark, shiny hair adoringly. "Is she coming home with us? Kitten doesn't look too fondly upon us – the mice are talking to me…they say Kitten's got a dog at home."**_

_**"A dog?" Angel's expression turned amused. "Why, Anne, you never mentioned you had a sweetheart." Buffy chewed her lip. "What's his name?"**_

_**"W-W-William," she answered. Drusilla released a shriek of raucous laughter.**_

_**"William's gone away!" she cried happily. "Gone far, far away. Gone with the Tommies, he has!" Angel grinned, and turned back to Buffy. **_

_**"Wanna come along for a little ride, Anne?" he asked, stroking her neck with one, smooth finger. "It'll be fun – something you've never done before. You're going to live forever."**_

_**"I…" Buffy was frozen. "I have to get home."**_

_**"Let her go," Drusilla insisted. "Kitten'll be back tomorrow."**_

_**Angel dropped his hand to run down Buffy's body, before thrusting her into the moonlight. "We'll meet again," he said, and then he winked. Buffy ran.**_

Buffy sat up, gasping for air. She hugged her knees, wishing and hoping that the events in her dream were just that – a dream. But she knew in her heart that it had been real – she could still feel where Angel had grabbed her shoulders to hold her steady. She could still picture the point of Drusilla's chin. Buffy shivered, and she climbed out of bed.

_Kitten'll be back tomorrow…_

The strange girl's words haunted her. How did she know Buffy would be back? Buffy liked to think she could control her own actions, and that Drusilla knew nothing…yet she knew that William had gone to war. Buffy reached into her wardrobe and pulled her dressing gown out of it, and around her. She then knelt by her window and watched the moon glimmer…

_We'll be seeing you…_

Buffy jumped as Angel's words rebounded in her head. He was dangerous, she knew that, yet there was something addictive about him. Something deep in Buffy's mind wanted to leave the house that instant and return to that dark alleyway; back to Angel and his strange companion…They made her feel special…They'd promised her something she'd never done before.

She pulled her gown tighter and scraped her blonde hair into a ponytail. She then searched for her shoes and slipped them on, before creeping downstairs – quietly enough so that her parents wouldn't hear her. She pulled open the door, and was faced with the cool night air.

Forget the dark night that was crawling with menacing strangers. Forget those German vultures circling above in their aeroplanes, ready to drop bombs on unsuspecting London. Forget her loyalty to William. She was entranced…

The vampires had called her.

And she was replying.


	11. Chapter 11: Revulsion

**A/N Fairly quick update, yes? I'm sorry this is dragging a little, but I promise the story line will progress next chapter. This fic is almost finished!**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Twelve

_"Kitten's back," Drusilla murmured softly, as Buffy stepped into the moonlight. Angel's gentle humming filled her ears as he had appeared at her side within seconds. Buffy gasped at the touch of his hands on her shoulders, but listened intently to the tune._

_"We'll meet again, don't know when, don't know where…" she sang to his melody carefully, and Angel nodded, sweeping her into a calm spin. Drusilla chuckled in delight. _

_"Daddy's playing with the kitten," she remarked, and burst into another peal of her inane laughter. Drusilla began humming a different tune, clashing horribly with Angel and Buffy's ensemble, and she raised hands to her head, moving her face in circles slightly. "Such music," she gasped happily. Buffy dropped Angel's hands, and watched the strange girl intently._

_"What are you?" she asked, carefully, observing the faint moonlight bounce off Drusilla's pointed canines. "No human can be that beautiful." Drusilla giggled, and reached up to play with some of her ebony locks, beginning to hum again._

_"I'm a creature of the light," she proclaimed, proudly. Her face morphed rapidly, and Buffy shrieked at the sudden creases in the pretty face. She stepped backwards tentatively, only to be caught by Angel's firm hands. Buffy froze with fear, feeling his arms drape around her protectively._

_"No need to fret, Anne," he whispered. "I've got you." Buffy ran her cool fingers down her cage. Part of her felt safe, kept away from the dangers of the world. A much larger part of her felt like he was trying to keep her from escaping._

_"I'm not fretting," she replied, meekly. His possessive grip on her tightened. She glanced back at Drusilla. "Creature of the night?"_

_"That's right, Kitten," Drusilla answered. She dug her nails gently into Buffy's skin, and bared her teeth. "Hiss."_

_"You're a vampire," Buffy decided, and rocked herself about in Angel's hold. "Please, Angel, let me go!"_

_"You're not going to run, pet," he ordered her. "You're going to become one of us." He brought his lips closer to her pale neck._

_"Your skin is going to pierce like a balloon," Drusilla whispered wistfully, and she craned her neck to get a better look at Angel's mouth, ready to bite. "Pop."_

_"Pop…" Buffy murmured, dreamily. The scent on Angel's jacket was captivating – she inhaled deeper. She stroked his arm as she felt his lips on her skin…his teeth like a needle. He sunk in, and Buffy yelped in pain, every inch of her flesh on fire…_

Buffy sat up, panting hard. She wiped her moist forehead with a dry hand, and reached for a glass of water. The cool liquid met Buffy's lips, and she exhaled appreciatively. It had all been a dream; a terrible, horrible dream…

"Glad to see you're awake, Princess." Buffy gasped, and turned to see Angel stand broodingly in the corner of her bedroom. Buffy reached instinctively for her bedclothes, shielding her chest.

"How did you get in?" she demanded, and Angel chuckled softly.

"You invited me in," he answered, softly. "Perhaps you don't remember." Buffy frowned, and then remembered how intoxicating the fumes from his coat had been. He could have easily gotten her to invite him in under the spell of his scent.

"Oh," she replied, softly. He smiled, and came to sit on her bed. She hitched the duvet up just a little higher. "You're a monster," she whispered, fearfully.

"That's right," Angel muttered, and he ran one finger down her pale and shivering arm. "We're going to destroy the world. Fancy tagging along?" Buffy frowned, and then laughed condescendingly.

"I don't think anyone can destroy the world," she said, disdainfully. "Not in anything I've ever read, anyway, and definitely not the Germans! My William's going to make sure of that." Angel chuckled, running his tongue along his teeth hungrily.

"So naïve," he sang, and Buffy fiddled with her hair nervously. "You make me laugh, Anne. No, I doubt that _Little Women _would ever dream of destroying the world."

Buffy's eyes snapped to the thick book lying on her bookshelf – how had Angel known she had read it? Angel followed her gaze, and exhaled shortly. "You seemed like the type," he answered her unspoken words. "Yet your fear was adorable."

"Get away from me," Buffy breathed, her mind flicking back to his caged arms around her in the alleyway. She felt for her neck, to find a shallow cut marring her skin. "You…"

Angel pressed a finger to his lips. "Delicious," he mouthed. Buffy went to shriek, but he cupped his hand over her mouth to silence her, horrified. "Dare make a noise and I'll do more than bite you," he warned. Buffy's skin turned white. He slowly removed his hands, and Buffy rolled out of bed, falling to the floor with a _thump_. Angel leaned over the duvet to see her curled up in a frightened ball.

"Now, now, Anne," he said, maliciously. "No need to be scared."

"Scared?" Buffy repeated. "Why would I be scared? Would it be that you _bit _me, you monster?"

"Hush now," he said, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, hauling Buffy up by her armpits. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, watching his eye-line drop. "It'll do no good to yell."

"Get out of my house," she said, her voice shaking. "Get out of my house or I'll call the coppers."

Angel rubbed his hands together. "Fabulous," he replied, grinning. "I'm feeling a little peckish. A horde of policemen should fill me up nice." Buffy's mouth dropped open in horror.

"I'll call them!" she cried, and she turned around to prise open her window. "Michael'll be patrolling the streets at this hour – he'll come!" Buffy crossed her fingers, hoping with her whole heart that her neighbourhood policeman would be doing his job tonight. She thrust her head out of the window into the cool night air, and took a deep gulp, ready to call. A hand clasped around her neck and another round her waist, and she was pulled in, her head hitting the wooden frame as the cool air slowly disappeared. She was thrown onto the bed, and Angel appeared above her.

"I don't think so, do you?" he asked, coolly. "You're amusing, Anne. Perhaps I should keep you human, and let you give shows for Drusilla. You're _far _more interesting than the wireless." Buffy gasped as his face neared hers. "_Far _more interesting." His nose touched hers.

Buffy pressed a hand to her stomach as Angel's lips met hers, to discover there was no pleasant swooping feeling as she closed her eyes. She didn't feel giddy – despite the clout her forehead had been given. She didn't feel like she wanted to throw her arms around Angel's neck, like she had with William. All she felt was revolted. She pulled her mouth from his, wiping her lips in disgust.

"Never do that again," she commanded. "_Never_." Angel grinned, and he peeled himself from the bed.

"Goodbye sweetheart," he said, suavely. "See you tomorrow night." He winked, and Buffy held a hand to her mouth in horror.


	12. Chapter 12: Progression

**A/N Fairly short chapter, but I decided that I needed one more chapter before this story comes to end. Review, and I promise I'll give you something worth reading. Sorry for the dragging.**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Twelve

Buffy awoke, feeling nauseated. She put her fingers to her lips, and received a flashback of the previous night. The horror of discovering what Angel and Drusilla truly were…the pain of Angel's fangs on her skin…his lips on hers…Buffy leapt off the bed and rushed to the bathroom. Pushing open the door, she only just made it in time before a flow of liquid pooled from her mouth. Buffy coughed and wiped her mouth, shaking slightly. She made a silent vow never to come into contact with Angel ever again.

"Elizabeth?" Joyce came running into the bathroom. Buffy leant on the flush of the lavatory, and Joyce understood. "Oh, dear. Something you ate last night, possibly?"

_Or rather something that tried to eat me, _Buffy thought furiously, yet she just nodded meekly to her mother. She placed a hand on her stomach, and it rumbled. It was just utter revulsion at the events at last night. Nothing else. She sought comfort in that fact, and laid her head on her mother's shoulder. "Can I make you a cup of tea, Mama?" Joyce smiled.

"That would be lovely, pet," she replied, and she patted her daughter's shoulder gently. "Your father would like one too, I should think." Buffy nodded, and traipsed downstairs. She filled the teapot with water, and waited, pensively.

"I wonder what William is doing at this exact moment," she wondered aloud.

* * *

"Drop and give me another twenty!"

William groaned, and fell to the floor, his lazy muscles almost crying out in agony. _Try and think of something else_, he repeated over and over, until an image came into his head that made everything seem O.K again. _Buffy, darling Buffy. With her sweet-smelling hair and soft skin…_

"Boone! Pick up the slack!" William groaned again, and pushed harder against the floor, his glistening nose just touching the ground before he raised his body again. Training was hard work, though he knew that once he got onto the battlefield it would be harder. _Buffy_, he repeated. _Beautiful Buffy, in her favourite periwinkle dress…_

"Are you O.K?" A friendly face dropped down to his level, and began doing press-ups beside him. He was pale and freckly, with floppy dark hair. He seemed about as capable as William, and was out of breath after just five press-ups. "You…seem…a little…out of…"

"Breath?" William finished, and the boy collapsed onto his stomach. William finished his twenty press-ups and then sat next to him. "I'm fine. Just homesick, I suppose." He stuck his hand out. "I'm William Boone."

"Alexander Harris," the boy answered, cheerfully. "Did you get called up?"

"Yeah," William grunted unhappily, his mind flicking back to the letter he had received the day of Buffy's birthday. "What about you?"

"Nah," Alexander replied, colloquially. "Just got tired of my father yelling at me. He chose to alternate between drinking his beer, calling me a coward, and drinking his beer." William laughed. "I doubt he's even noticed I've gone yet." Alexander spotted William's glum expression. "You've got a girl back home, haven't you?"

William thought miserably of Buffy. "The prettiest," he moaned. "And I've left her back in London where any old boy could sweep her off her feet." Alexander patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Thanks, Alex."

"Xander," he corrected. "Can't stand _Alexander_. It's what my mother calls me." He pulled a face. "What's your girl called?"

"Buffy," Will answered, his stomach swooping as her name rolled off his lips. "We're engaged – going to get married. If I ever get home."

"You'll get home," Xander assured him. "This war will be over by Christmas."

"That's what they said last year," Will groaned. "Yet here we are." Xander's expression dropped. "I'm sorry. Do you have a girl too?"

"Yeah." Xander cheered up considerably. "I've got a few, actually. Someone told me my best friend Willow's in love with me, though she's always with her friend Tara…" Will raised an eyebrow. "But there's this girl…" A smile spread across his face. "She's called Anya."

"Boone! Harris!" The two boys jumped up, hearts pumping. "Get to work."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat, dear?" Joyce asked her daughter carefully. "You look so gloomy – are you alright?"

"I'm just missing William, mother," she replied, sadly, staring at her sponge cake expressionlessly. "But I'm not hungry. I'll sure Father will be happy to eat my sponge." Joyce handed the plate to Hank. "I think I'm going to go to my room."

"Very well…" Joyce began, and Buffy traipsed up the stairs silently. As she reached her doorway, she swept her long blond hair into a ponytail, and changed into warmer clothes. A cool hand swept across her shoulder blades, and she jumped inches into the air.

"Angel!" A hand clamped around my mouth, and Angel kicked the door shut before releasing her. Buffy pushed away, breathing hard. "Where you in here when I was _undressing_?" Angel chuckled.

"Perhaps," he answered. Buffy moved forwards and slapped his cheek hard. He clutched his skin, still grinning. "Careful," he said. "Nobody likes an Angry Anne."

"Good," Buffy growled. "Maybe now you'll leave me alone!"

"I wouldn't count on it," Angel said. And then he lunged.

* * *

William drummed against his calf, his brain trying to turn out the yells of torture and pain coming from No Man's Land. He sat in the damp walls of the trench, humming a familiar tune over and over to comfort himself.

"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when…"

He felt positively sick. The explosions were louder than anything he'd heard before – louder than the fireworks on Bonfire Night. Louder than the bomb that night that had landed on the Jones' house. Louder than his mother's incessant babbling when she was trying to drown out what was being said on the wireless.

"Boone! Harris! You're up." William jumped, but swept a finger under his chin to make sure his helmet was fastened properly. He nodded slowly to Xander – both of them knowing it could be the last time they would ever see each other.

"Good luck, Xan," he said.

"You too, Will."

The two put their feet on the small ladders, and waited for the signal. Then, they placed their shaking hands on the top rung, and hoisted themselves over the top.

The ground shook as a grenade hit the middle of No Man's Land.


	13. Chapter 13: War and Peace

**A/N This is another disjointed chapter, I'm sorry, but I wanted to show the two different parts of the story within the same chapter - that's William at war, and Buffy in England. So, sorry if it doesn't flow quite right. However, if you're very sick and tired of this fic and are only reading to pass the time, there is good news. There are only two chapters left :-)**

**For Megan. And MG is a'coming.**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Thirteen

Buffy threw her arms in front of her face to shield herself from the mass of flesh hurled her way. Angel knocked her to the floor, and propped himself over her, his face contorted. Buffy was too scared to make a sound.

"Elizabeth?" Joyce's voice sounded outside the door. "Are you alright?"

"Tell her you fell," Angel hissed warningly, and Buffy breathed heavily. "Tell you're indecent, but you're fine." Buffy repeated his words obediently out of fright, and Angel grinned as Joyce padded away. He brought his face closer to Buffy's, and whispered seductively. "There's a good girl, Anne."

"You're a monster," she spat, and he laughed, his whole body shaking above hers.

"Yes, I am," he replied, and held Buffy tight in his cage. "I'm a predator…and you're my prey." Buffy released a scared squeak, and Angel rolled off her. She gave a sigh of relief, before he scooped her up into his arms and dropped her onto the bed. She lay, stiff as a board. "You can come out now, Dru."

The strange and sultry girl appeared from inside Buffy's wardrobe, and brushed herself down, hissing. "Is the kitten tamed?" she asked, and saw Buffy on the bed. "Kitten's become a lion, Daddy. She's found her claws."

"They're all nice and blunt now Dru," Angel replied. "Buffy's nothing but a shadow of a cat. Look at her." Drusilla sat on the bed and looked at Buffy. She frowned.

"Kitten's dirty," she said, pouting. "Kitten's too busy thinking off that Tommy. She needs to be cleaned." Angel grinned as Drusilla lifted up one of Buffy's limp fingers and licked it. Buffy watched in horror as the pink, serpent-like tongue flicked its way down her index finger. She tried to pull away, but Drusilla's grip was too tight. She squirmed with discomfort.

"Kitten's not quite clean yet," declared Drusilla, depositing Buffy's hand back beside her body. "But she tastes like vanilla. Will she still taste nice when she's like us, Daddy?"

"My bets are on that she'll taste even sweeter," Angel answered, with a dark look in Buffy's direction. "And once she's one of us she won't put up such a big fight." Buffy's fists curled automatically. "She'll be like our little marionette." He licked his lips.

"You're not going to _touch _me," Buffy growled. "Get out of my bedchamber _now_." Drusilla and Angel chuckled in amusement.

"Delusional Anne," Angel sang, and he grazed Buffy's cheekbone with one finger. "So innocent, so naïve…"

"Such a pretty kitten," Dru added. Buffy scowled in a un-lady-like fashion. "Hiss… She'll be such fun when she's one of us. She'll be like a ball of yarn…"

"Get off me!" Buffy shrieked, and the sound of smashing plates echoed downstairs, followed by footsteps hurrying upstairs. Angel turned around and tutted softly.

"Now you've done it, little Anne."

* * *

William picked himself up, and collapsed to the floor again in agony. He ran a hurried hand down his leg and found the wound causing him to nearly black out with pain. He had been thrown, by the force of the grenade explosion, over into the next field, and onto a railway line. The railroad spike had torn the flesh of his leg, and he was bleeding heavily. He winced at the sight of it. 

"Xander?" he cried out in exhaustion. "Xander? _Anyone_?"

Nobody came. Explosions from the battlefield were louder than ever, and pounded against Will's eardrum harder and harder. He raised a hand to his head, which felt like there was something beating against the inside of his skull, and promptly laid his head on the soil, worn out.

* * *

"Elizabeth!" Joyce's slight hand beat on the wooden door heavily in fright. "Elizabeth! What in God's name is going on in that room? You come out immediately or I'll call the coppers!" 

"Mo-" Buffy tried to call out, but Drusilla clamped a cold hand around her mouth, her sharp nails digging into the skin around Buffy's lips. Drusilla spoke for Buffy, putting on an affected English accent.

"I'm simply fine, Mother, no need to worry." Angel snorted at the difference between her usual Cockney and the pretentious voice she had spoken in. Buffy had to admit, it sounded just like her. "I'm…I'm just having a little trouble with a house-fly, dratted things." Angel blew Drusilla a kiss for her quick thinking.

"Alright then, darling, if you're sure."

_No! _Buffy wanted to scream for her mother, beg her to rescue her from the vampires that were about to kill her. _No, Mother, come back! _But Drusilla's hold over Buffy's mouth was even stronger. She was finding it hard to breathe.

Angel turned to Buffy in interest. "You know," he said, conversationally. "I've only just realised that your mother has been calling you Elizabeth." There was humour in his Irish lilt. "Why would a mother be calling her daughter by the wrong name?"

"Kitten's been lying to us," Drusilla declared, with a giggle. "Pussy cats don't tell lies to their mistresses, or they get shot." Buffy squeaked uneasily. Angel chuckled.

"Steady, Dru, we're not going to shoot…_Elizabeth_." He said her name like it was poisonous. "I just think we'll speed our proposed process along, shall we?" Drusilla clapped her hands together in delight.

"Oh, _yes_!" she cried. "Let's make Kitten a _cat_." She climbed on top of Buffy's panting body. "Can I do it?" Angel seized Drusilla by the wrist and threw her to the floor. The female vampire moaned in protest. "Not fair, Daddy!"

"Daddy'll be the one to turn the Kitten," he scolded her. "You stay away from Elizabeth, do you understand me?" She writhed on the floor; he kicked her. "Do you understand me?"

"Daddy!" she protested, and Angel picked her up, shaking her violently.

"Off her bloody rocker," Angel announced, as if he was talking to himself. He kept muttering, though Buffy couldn't pick words out of his strong Irish accent. He swung Drusilla around, as if she was a little doll, and she was wailing. Buffy stuck her fingers in her ears.

There was a knock at the door, and all three of them froze. Then, as the door began to open, Angel threw himself and Drusilla out of Buffy's bedroom window. She lay on her bed, breathing heavily and trying to keep her sanity. Angel and Drusilla were gone – she clutched her neck in panic – and she was still alive. There had been no biting – there had been some absurd finger-licking, but she was still alive.

Joyce appeared at the door, carrying soup. "You're not going to bed without anything to eat," she said, sternly. She caught sight of her daughter, panting, and panicked. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes," Buffy breathed. "Just about."

* * *

"Look's like you got off easy," a friendly voice greeted Will, and he turned around in surprise to see Xander sporting a bandaged arm, and an eye-patch. "A wound in your leg? Kid's stuff." 

"Xander!" Will shook hands with his friend, just as the ferry back to England arrived on the horizon. "What do you mean? What happened to you during that explosion? You're wearing an eye-patch!"

"The grenade blinded me," Xander explained. "But just in the one eye. Plus…" He trailed off, and raised his left arm. "The lower part of my arm got blown off too." William spotted now that the end of his arm had been bandaged – simply a stump. He whistled lowly.

"You're a brave man, Xander," he said, appreciatively. "You're being sent home, yes?"

"Yes," Xander replied, grimly. "Unfortunately. I'd rather have my head blown off than return home to my father." William reminded him of Anya.

"You'll come home a hero," he said. "She'll have to marry you then." Xander cheered up remarkably.

"Are you being sent home?" Xander asked Will. He nodded. "So you can marry Buffy!"

William nodded again, slowly. "If she's still there when I get home."

* * *

Buffy sat on the edge of her bed, nervously twining her fingers. She looked out of her bedroom window – and saw that it was nearly dark. It had been two days since Angel and Drusilla had thrown themselves out of her window, and each night she had anticipated their return, only to be greeted with nothing. 

She fiddled with her long, blonde ponytail, and plaited it gently. She was wearing her nightgown – and her parents were downstairs, drinking coffee. She should be in bed, it was a Saturday night. Tomorrow she would have to get up early for church. Church began earlier now, because there were so many soldiers to pray for. She laid her head back on her pillow, and closed her eyes.

_I will get to sleep, I will, I will…_

"Good evening, my sweet." All of Buffy's limbs froze at the sound of Angel's smooth and seductive voice. Her eyes snapped open immediately, and she found him and Drusilla creeping in from her window. Drusilla was wearing a dress Buffy recognised…

"That's mine," she snarled. Drusilla giggled.

"Course it is," she replied. "As if I could afford anything so pretty!" She swished the material around dreamily. "It's lovely…" She began humming, and Buffy's eyes welled up.

"That's my party dress," she whispered. "Daddy saved up for months so that I could have a lovely dress for the Church Hall party…" Angel snuck up behind her, and ran a comforting hand down her arm.

"Ssh…" He urged. "It's alright. Dru's only playing."

"But-" Angel pressed a finger to her lip, and bent her head away from him. He lowered his mouth, and Drusilla watched eagerly. Buffy was sobbing into her hand, unaware of the situation. She suddenly felt teeth on her skin –

And that's when the air raid siren sounded.


	14. Chapter 14: Remains

**There is a lot of changed perspectives in this chap, but I decided not to use those green lines. You guys are intelligent enough to figure it out. I hope you enjoy this chapter - I quite like it.**

**We'll Meet Again**

Chapter Fourteen

Buffy gasped at the shrill sound. It rang through her silent bedroom eerily; Angel still held Buffy's head to the side, and Drusilla was still watching eagerly, waiting for him to pierce her skin with his fangs. Joyce drummed on the door urgently, and all three of them jumped.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

Buffy slipped out of Angel's grasp and made for the door, throwing herself out of her room and startling her mother. "Go!" she urged her, and Joyce scurried down the stairs. Buffy turned and locked her door, hurriedly, hoping to slow Angel and Drusilla down. She scanned the landing for something to barricade the door – all the while the air raid siren was still wailing, and a buzz of aeroplanes could be heard in the distance. Buffy's eyes gleamed as she suddenly spotted something.

_The bookcase._

William gazed up at the sky as soon as he heard the air raid siren ring. The lampposts were out, and a frightened murmur of noise came from every house on the street. He was standing outside the church – would Reverend Giles share his shelter? The dreaded buzz of aircraft began to fill the sky, and Will's heart pounded – it wasn't a drill. It was real life, and he could die if he didn't move quickly.

He dropped the only bag he was carrying and ran as fast as his wounded leg would allow him round the back of the vicarage, to see Reverend Giles and his daughter Dawn make their way to their air-raid shelter. The buzz was getting louder. He shot the reverend a desperate look. "Please, Reverend?" he called.

"William!" The Reverend's wife, Jenny called. "William what are you doing? Come in, immediately?" She ushered him into the air-raid shelter, before the Reverend secured the door. Will squeezed in next to Dawn, and crossed his fingers, thinking of Buffy as the first bang sounded.

It wasn't easy – Angel and Drusilla were pounding against the door as Buffy pushed herself against the heavy bookcase. She tipped it slightly, so that some of the books fell out. That certainly made things easier. She shifted all her weight and heaved one more time; the bookcase slid into place in front of her bedroom door.

"Elizabeth!" Joyce's panicked voice sounded from outside. "Elizabeth, where are you?"

"For goodness' sake, Joyce!" Hank cried to his wife. "Didn't you check Elizabeth was behind you?"

"I'm here, Mama!" Buffy called, as she hurried outside, hitching up the skirts of her dressing gown. "Let's go – the aeroplanes are getting closer!" Sure enough, the loud swooping noises of the German airplanes were getting louder, and Buffy's heart was beginning to pump harder against her ribcage. Joyce pushed her daughter into the shelter first, placing a hand in the small of her back. Hank nodded to Joyce, who slipped in second, and then Hank followed, closing the door to his shelter moments before the first bang sounded. Buffy gripped her mother's cold hands fearfully, thinking of William.

"William," Dawn said, trying to distract herself from the noises outside. "What are you doing back from the war so early?" William raised his trouser leg and showed her the wound. She gasped daintily and held a hand to her mouth in horror. "William!" she cried. "It's awful!"

Will winced as the trouser material scratched at his wound, and took the cup of water the Reverend's wife handed to him. "Thank-you, Mrs Giles," he said. "You come well-prepared."

"Well," answered Jenny, with a blush. "I have always been good in a crisis, haven't I Rupert?" The three of them turned to face the Reverend, to see he was deep in prayer. Jenny smiled sadly. "He's such a good man," she said. "Always thinking of others at a time like this."

Buffy buried her head into her mother's shoulder, trying to sing herself calm. "We'll meet again, don't know where don't know-" A loud bang interrupted her singing, and she trembled. The latest bomb had sounded near. "But–" _Bang. _"–I know w-we'll meet again some sunny day…" Her mother piped up the singing.

"Keep shining through, just like you always do…" Hank took hold of his daughter's other hand, and joined in. "Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away." There was an eerie silence as they finished singing, quickly filled by a falling bomb.

**BANG.**

William and Dawn jumped at the loudest noise yet, and Dawn began to cry. Will rubbed her back comfortingly, but was worried himself. That sounded close – it had to have landed somewhere in the street. He glanced at Jenny and Rupert's anxious faces.

"It sounded close, Rupert," said Jenny. "Near the Joneses' old house – maybe over a bit." Something somersaulted in Will's stomach.

"The Summerses?" he asked, terrified. Jenny gulped.

"No dear," she replied, but Will spotted the worried look on her face. "I'm sure Elizabeth will be just fine." As she finished speaking, the all-clear siren rang through the town. "The raid's finished." She looked at her husband. "Shall we get out?"

Rupert unlocked the door carefully, and the air that met them was thick with fumes. The bomb had landed close; William could smell the burning debris. It was time to investigate. He whirled around to inform Jenny. "Mrs. Giles, please may I-"

"Go, lad!" she urged him, and Will ran as fast as he could around the vicarage and onto the main road. A string of destroyed houses were in the distance. His heart sank as he neared, seeing the residence that had been like his second home in tatters. Buffy's house had been rendered to a pile of rubble, and her air-raid shelter was in a bad state too. The roof had caved in, causing a huge dent. Suddenly, a bubble of grief and hysteria rose up his throat, and he fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Buffy!" he cried, slamming his fists onto the cold pavement. "Buffy, no!" He made no attempt to dry his wet cheeks. "Buffy!"

"Will?" His ears perked – a familiar voice was calling his name in the distance. He shook it off – it must have been his imagination… "Will?"

No, someone was definitely calling him. He stood up, wiping his cheeks on his blazer. "Hello?" A sigh of relief came from the Summerses' back garden, and Will rushed to follow it. "Buffy?"

"Will!" An excited cry came from the decrepit air-raid shelter. "Will, help us out, please!"

"Buffy!" Will bent down to see the entire Summers family straining underneath the large piece of metal that had collapsed. "Wait there – I'll get help!"

"Joyce, Hank, Buffy!" Anne came scurrying into her neighbour's back garden. "I've called the reverend, he's coming to…._William_?" Will nodded, and ran into his mother's arms, sobbing for joy instead of despair, like he had been five minutes ago. His mother held him softly, before releasing him and turning towards the air-raid shelter. "We have to move this." Will nodded.

"Do you think the two of us will be enough to move it?" he asked, and Anne looked doubtful.

"We could try," she replied, and the two of them moved either side of the large chunk of metal and tried to lift. Shouts came from the front garden, and Reverend Giles, Jenny, and Dawn appeared down the side of the house.

"Let us help!" they called in unison, and together, they slid the large piece of metal from over the Summerses' heads.

Buffy emerged from the shelter, looking in horror at her ruined house. Then she caught side of William, and threw herself into his arms, kissing his neck earnestly. "Will," she muttered, over and over again. "I never thought…I thought you were…I can't believe…" She seemed unable to finish her sentences.

"Ssh," soothed William. "I thought you were….. after I saw the house and the shelter…oh, I love you Buffy." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "I'm so glad to be back."

"Me too," she replied, and she stood on tip-toes to kiss his cool lips. "I love you too, Will." They broke apart, and Buffy's fingers ran down his arm to hold his hand. "I can't believe what's happened to my house, though." Her eyes welled up. "My room – our kitchen! Where are we going to stay?"

"You can stay with us," William offered, and Anne nodded. "You'll have to have a separate room till we're married, of course – but afterwards…" He trailed off. "It's going to be great."

Buffy stepped forwards to examine the ruins of her house, Will close behind her. He bent down and picked something off the ground. "This yours?" he asked, handing it to her. She looked at it and saw in surprise that it was her party dress – the dress Drusilla had been wearing. It was scorched, and the edges were frayed. A string of pearls dropped out from inside of it – the necklace Buffy realised now that Drusilla had been wearing. She scanned the rubble for any evidence that Angel had been trapped inside the house when the bomb dropped. She spotted a leather jacket. William studied his beloved's face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as Buffy fingered the burnt material pensively.

"Yes," she replied, finally. "I'm more than alright. I think this is the start to our happily ever after, Will."


	15. Epilogue

**A/N Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I'm hoping for 100 reviews altogether? Do you reckon I can accomplish it? (pretty please). Hope you enjoy it! And as always, there's fluffy cheese. My favourite.**

**We'll Meet Again**

Epilogue

"Nervous, pet?" Hank whispered in his daughter's ear, moments before the grand oak doors opened. She was clutching his hand a little tight; he was afraid that at any moment his fingers might fall off due to lack of circulation.

Buffy trembled as the music started playing. "No," she lied. The truth was, that despite the six months of planning and saving money that had occurred after her family's house was bombed, Buffy was still convinced that something was going to go wrong on her wedding day. Something disastrous and terrifying – and possibly something involving vampires. Could they come out in the day? Was it just a myth that they sleep in coffins until the sun went down?

Hank smiled, and moved to kiss her cheek. "Things will be fine, Elizabeth. I'm so proud of you! Seventeen years old and getting married. I'll be envy of the neighbourhood, if not the whole of London." Buffy smiled weakly and started to walk, her eyes fixed on her satin-soaked feet.

Until she caught sight of her groom.

William stood beside Xander, his best man, and obviously fighting with himself as he refrained from loosening his collar. He grinned at the sight of Buffy, however, who was clad head-to-toe in white satin, and a string of pearls – the pearls they had collected from the ruin that day – around her neck. Her nervous pulse was soothed at the sight of him, and her warm hands closed around his as she bade farewell to her father.

She had been given away. Now it was time to be claimed.

"Hi," she breathed, and Reverend Giles looked at her concernedly. Will squeezed her hand hard, trying to mask his own apprehension. Xander felt in his pockets for the rings.

"Buffy," Will whispered, as they turned to face the Reverend. "Relax, please. Everything is going to be fine." The Reverend greeted the congregation, and Xander's face fell as his fingers clasped over thin air. _Oh dear_.

"Do you, William Harry Boone, take Elizabeth Anne Summers to be your lawful wedded wife?" Reverend cast a careful eye on the couple.

William nodded. "I do," he said confidently. Buffy, however, spotted Xander's worried expression and trembled again. Her fingers laced with Will's fearfully; not even the warm touch of his hands could calm her.

"And do you, Elizabeth Anne Summers, take William Harry Boone to be your lawful wedded husband?" The Reverend finished the phrase and looked concernedly in her direction. She was breathing deeply.

"Buffy?" William asked, nervously. "Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?"

Xander's face suddenly lit up as his fingers clasped over cold metal in his other pocket. He winked at the tentative Buffy, who perked up again. Whatever problem Xander had been faced with, he had now solved.

"I do," she answered, with a smile. All three of them – Will, Buffy, and Reverend Giles – looked over to Xander for the rings. He produced them triumphantly and dropped them into the Reverend's hand. Buffy slid one onto her new husband's finger, and William did the same for her. Their hands remained linked, and the audience sighed happily at the sight.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Giles declared, and the entire congregation clapped and cheered. "You may now kiss the bride," he added to William, who took his wife in his arms and kissed her tenderly, lingering on her lips for a second longer than Buffy had anticipated.

"I love you," he whispered, as they prepared to walk back down the aisle. "Boy, am I mighty glad you eventually said 'I do'! I thought you had changed your mind!" Buffy smiled, and rested her head on his shoulders.

"Of course not!" she cried. "I could never not marry you, Will. I was just convinced something was going to go wrong. Are you sure the reverend asked if there were any objections?"

Will laughed. "Yes, Buffy."

"And no-one objected?" Will shook his head, and Buffy sighed, relieved. "I was so nervous I think I missed have of it."

He wrapped an arm around his wife and kissed the top of her head affectionately. "Darling Buffy," he mused. "What will I make of you now we're married?"

"You'll probably want to kick me out within the first two weeks," Buffy replied, firmly.

"Never," Will answered. "Never in a million years will I want to kick you out of our house."

They walked down the aisle, getting showered with confetti and greeting the many family members and friends that were offering their congratulations.

"We'll see," Buffy said, out of the corner of her mouth. "You may be singing a different tune soon."

* * *

_May 1__st__, 1945_

"He's finally gone to sleep…" Buffy whispered, so exhausted that she could hardly keep her eyes open. She dropped her head onto William's shoulder. "I have ringing in my ears – are you sure he's stopped crying?"

"I'm sure," William replied, rubbing sleep from his own eyes. "Bloody hell, that son of mine's the best damn thing in this world, but he sure has lungs of a whale."

Buffy ran her hands through her son's hair as William lifted the sleeping boy into the air. "Sleep tight, my Billy," she said, as he was lowered into his cot. The baby lay with his thumb slotted tightly into his pink mouth, and his prawny limbs tucked up in the foetal position. Buffy hang over the cot, hardly believing the sight of her newborn son.

"How does it feel to be a mother, pet?" William asked, draping an arm around his sleepy wife. Buffy nuzzled into his neck, and inhaled his warm smell, wrapping herself around him as tightly as possible.

"Amazing," she replied, with her eyes still closed. "Tiring. Thrilling. Tedious. Everything at once. I love him, though, so much. And Mama is so proud."

"And I'm proud of you," William added. "A father! At twenty years old! I never would have expected that."

"Me neither," said Buffy. "And I especially never thought the father of my child would be the _boy next door_!" She wrinkled her face in feigned disgust, and William laughed, leaning in to kiss her. She smiled against his lips and slid her hands around his neck. "I love you…"

"I love you t-" He was interrupted by raucous yelling and a bell ringing. The pair threw their heads out of the window to inspect what was going on. A portly man was running down the street, ringing a bell and crying out words that Buffy could not decipher.

"What's going on?" Buffy demanded, as William strained to listen. "Is the air-raid siren not working?"

"Take Billy," William ordered, firmly. "Take him down to the shelter. I'll be there in a minute, just take him-" He gave his wife a sharp push, and she obeyed him, seizing her now bawling son and wrapping him up in a blanket as she rushed down the stairs towards the shelter in the back garden. Her heart was in her mouth, her pulse throbbing against her son's body.

"Buffy!" Will's voice made her freeze, and turn around again urgently.

"What?" she asked. His face was jubilant.

"Adolf Hitler…" he trailed off, and Buffy feared the worst. "He's dead, Buffy. Adolf Hitler is dead! Germany is surrendering!"

Buffy nearly dropped her son. "So the war's nearly over?" she asked. "It'll be finished soon? No more bombs, no more air raids, no more deaths?" William nodded eagerly, and ran to sweep his family into his arms.

"Oh, Buffy," he cried, holding her tightly. "Everything's going to be O.K now, can't you see? We should celebrate!" He took Billy from Buffy and swung him around and around, the newborn baby's inane giggling echoing through the air.

"Well, I'm sure Mama has some ginger ale back at her house…" Buffy began, but William waved an arm in the air impatiently.

"I'm not talking about ginger ale," he replied, passionately. "I'm talking about doing something with our lives – getting out of the city! We could move to the countryside…" His voice trailed off as his thoughts deepened. "We could raise Billy on a farm, or in a cottage. We could have our parents up for Christmas and they could stay in the spare rooms that we build with the money we got from the autumn crops…oh, Buffy, can't you see it?"

Buffy's imagination was beginning to ignite, but she was still doubtful. "A farm?" she repeated. "Oh, Will, it would be terribly muddy."

"We'd learn to love it," he insisted. "Think about it, pet. The air would be so much cleaner for Billy. And there would be no-one around for miles; the children could run through the fields and not have to worry about anything."

Buffy picked up on a singular word. "Children?" she echoed. "You want more?" William kissed her forehead.

"Of course!" he replied. "The more the merrier! What do you say?"

"About the countryside? Or about multiple children?" Buffy asked teasingly. "Well…I say you only live once! I think the countryside would be lovely, Will. We'll break the news to Mama first thing in the morning."

They stood together, Billy between their bodies, a close-knit family. They listened to the portly man's celebratory cries of victory bouncing off the buildings. There were families pouring out onto the streets, joining in with the shouting, and songs of triumph were beginning to erupt. Buffy and William remained silent, with Billy gurgling cheerfully.

"Well," Buffy remarked, finally. "We sure have come a long way from being the children next-door, haven't we?"


End file.
